Yarrow
by fairmaidofkent
Summary: After the death of his wife, Lucius Malfoy is left with an infant son that he lacks the ability to properly care for. Desperate to avoid being sent out of the country for marriage, Narcissa Black offers her help. AU
1. Chapter 1

**This story is AU, you should know going in. The ages are not canon, and obviously, the main plot device is not canon either. Still, I hope you'll read and enjoy!**

_The Daily Prophet, Page 9b, Obituaries_

_Cecelia Malfoy, beloved wife and mother, passed away on June 6, 1980, shortly after the birth of her son, Draco Malfoy (see Births, P 9a). She leaves behind a grieving husband and infant. She will always be remembered for her sunny disposition and generosity, and the many people whose lives she touched will-_

Here, the text was interrupted as a mug of coffee was set upon it.

"Bella, I was reading that! Did you know Lucius Malfoy's wife is dead?"

"Yes, I'd heard. Cissy, you need to stop reading obituaries; it's morbid. Shouldn't a nice, pureblooded girl such as yourself be out flirting with suitors or playing with dolls or something?" Bellatrix waved an airy hand, and Narcissa narrowed her eyes.

"Shouldn't a nice, twenty-two year old pureblooded _old_ _maid_ such as yourself have a husband by now?"

"I'll marry when I want to," Bellatrix snarled in reply.

"You mean when some poor man will take you?"

"Girls, enough bickering." Druella Black appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, glaring down at her daughters. They both sat up a bit straighter.

"Bellatrix, by no means will you 'marry when you want to.' Your father has accepted the proposal from the Lestranges-"

"The Lestranges were in negotiations?" Narcissa interrupted, eyes wide. "Bella, you never told me! When's the wedding?" she asked, eager as any seventeen year old at the prospect of a new set of robes. Bellatrix shrugged, glaring into her coffee as though it had somehow offended her.

"The wedding is in two months," Druella supplied succinctly. "And don't you sulk, Bellatrix."

"Which one is it?" Narcissa gushed after their mother left.

"Rodolphus," Bellatrix mumbled, still scowling. Narcissa clapped with excitement.

"Ooh, you got the handsome one! Terrifying, of course, but he's quite nice to look at. Why do you look so put out about it? Don't you and Rodolphus get along?"

"We get along fine," Bellatrix snapped. "But I don't think it's for Mum and Father to pick out my husband."

Narcissa didn't reply. She knew very well that it was her sister's own fault; if only Bellatrix had decidedly more quickly upon a rich, pureblooded man, Cygnus and Druella would have been happy to support the choice. But the fact of the matter was, the Blacks were running out of money. They had the purest blood one could find, but when that blood was preserved at the cost of marrying one's own cousins, wealth rarely grew, and more and more embarrassments were born each generation: weak-minded heirs unable to prosper.

"It could be worse, Bella," she reminded her sister softly.

"That's right- I could be you."

Narcissa frowned at her sister's harsh words, but Bellatrix pressed on anyway.

"They won't have you marry another Lestrange- not much gold in that, is there? Britt Parkinson's just gotten engaged, Michael Wilkes was married last month, even Crabbe and Goyle both have little ones now, the Rosier's are as poor as the Blacks, the Crouches only have the one son, and he's just started Hogwarts- Cissy, don't you see?"

"See what?" she replied suspiciously, taking a sip of tea.

"That's all the wizarding families in the United Kingdom with heirs to speak of. So if you don't get an heir, then you get the current holder of wealth himself- some old man with children, or even grandchildren, your age. Or, worse yet- they'll send you abroad. And I don't mean to France; Mum's too closely related to the respectable families there. You'll be given to some Spanish _mago_, or a Russian _Мастер_."

"I will not," Narcissa hissed. "You're lying; I know there must be some decent wizards around our age, at least in Scotland."

"Go ask Father yourself. See what he has in mind." She grinned maliciously, in a much better mood now that she had caused someone pain. Narcissa rose to her feet.

"I think I shall. You're likely just jealous that you're stuck with a foul, violent drunk like Rodolphus Lestrange. I'm sure that whatever Father has in mind for me can't possibly be worse than _that._"

* * *

"Daddy?" Narcissa knocked on the door of her father's study. "Daddy, may I come in?"

"Narcissa, dear." The door swung open to reveal both her parent's, looking concerned. "We were just talking about you, actually, poppet."

"Bella says you're sending me away," she blurted, quickly forgetting the carefully composed speech she had prepared. "She's lying, isn't she?"

"Dear..." her parents exchanged uncomfortable glances. "Obviously, we're trying to avoid that."

"She had five years after graduation to find someone- should I be granted at least that before you send me off to Russia?"

"Narcissa..." Druella laid a gentle hand upon her youngest daughters head. "Circumstances have... shifted, in the past few years. While you were at Hogwarts, it was not of the same concern to you, but now that you've graduated..."

"An opportunity had arisen," Cygnus interrupted. "Due to tragedy, unfortunately, but it may be the only chance we get. The Malfoy's have recently had death in the family, and-"

"Lucius Malfoy?" Narcissa gasped. "But his wife hasn't been dead a week! Surely he's not already looking for a new one?"

"No, he is not." Cygnus sounded thoroughly displeased about this fact. "He is, however, loath to permit his son to grow up without the proper influence of a good, pureblooded woman in the home. Someone respectable to properly raise the boy, so he is not left the elves and half blood nannies."

"So... he wants a mother for the boy, but not a wife for himself?"

"Precisely, poppet."

"I don't understand. How am I supposed to-" she broke off abruptly, suspicious. "Exactly what did you have in mind, Daddy?"

"If you were to serve as the child's mother... It is only natural that, once his grief has passed... _you, _poppet, would be the natural choice for a wife."

"It's sick," Narcissa snapped. "I won't hover about his home, tending his son, waiting like a... a... scavenger!"

"Narcissa, he cannot possibly raise a child on his own, and other available girls will be fighting for the position as soon as they hear of it. We must go today," Druella announced with finality.

"I don't want- I don't know anything about babies!"

"Would you rather leave the country?"

"I'll stay here! I don't need new gowns or-"

"Narcissa. Listen to me." Cygnus drew a deep breath. "After Bella's wedding, your mother and I will be... visiting my sister, your Aunt Walburga, for an indefinitely extended period of time."

Narcissa blinked. "You've lost the house?"

"No, darling, nothing like that. But it is... rather costly to run a household and it wouldn't make much sense for your mother and I to be living all alone in such a big place-"

"You wouldn't be alone! I would be here!"

"Narcissa!" Druella exhaled sharply, giving her daughter a pained look. "It cannot be done."

* * *

Narcissa marched up the sweeping steps of the Malfoy Manor with an expression akin to one of resignation. She could not quite believe that she was here, seeking employment. _Her,_ a Black!

She pounded the knocker, and a house elf opened the grand door.

"I want to see Mr. Malfoy," she told the creature imperiously.

"I is sorry, Miss, but he is not seeing no one."

"Good," Narcissa replied, leaping upon its unintentional double negative brought about by poor grammatical skill. "I'll be the next person he won't not see." She brushed into the foyer, despite the elf's squeals of protest. Several blonde portraits glared at her abrupt intrusion, but she paid them no mind. "Tell him I'm here. Shall is wait in a sitting room, or stand here like a barbarian?"

Nervous and confused, the elf showed her the way to a lovely receiving room. "I'll be telling him you're here then, Miss."

"Good. Hurry, please."

Narcissa doubted very much that the elf disobeyed her order. She was quite certain that it was Mr. Malfoy's obstinacy that kept her waiting for an hour and half with no sort of diversion; the elf did not even reappear to offer her tea.

"By now, most people would have taken the hint that they are not welcomed nor wanted."

Narcissa sprang to her feet as Lucius Malfoy swept into the room. She had never known him at school, as he was ten years her senior, but had spotted him at parties and social gatherings ever since she'd been a little girl. At twenty seven, he already stuck a commanding figure in the world of politics and law, and she'd heard that he was merciless towards those who opposed him. His grey eyes were cold as he regarded her with disdain.

"Mr. Malfoy," she dropped into a small curtsy. Since they were of the same class, he should have returned a obligatory bow, but he remained stiffly upright. "I'm not sure we've ever been properly introduced. I'm-"

"I know who you are- your oldest sister is marrying soon and your other has ruined her name. I can guess why you're here, and frankly, I'm disgusted. My wife has been dead a mere seventy two hours, Miss Black," he reminded her firmly. There was a curious lack of pain in his voice when he spoke of her passing. She matched his cool indifference when she replied, though her heart was pounding.

"I am aware of that, Mr. Malfoy," she told him quietly. "I am also aware that you have a newborn son. He might receive entirely sufficient care from hired girls, but he will need the influence of a Pureblood woman in his life to ensure that he is properly brought up."

"And you think you'd be the one to give him that? You're scarcely more than a child yourself. I don't need a little girl hanging around _my _Manor all the time, playing house with _my _son and heir."

"I've graduated from Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy, and received Outstanding marks in all of my N.E.W.T's. I will be eighteen in two months, so there is no need for you to consider me anything beneath a pureblooded woman of good standing."

"So you think I'll marry you? Before Cecilia is cold in her grave? You come to me, without your father or chaperone, and ask if I'll make you my wife? I won't consider it. My elf will show you out." He turned to go.

"Mr. Malfoy, wait!" The desperation in her tone made him pause, but as he stood in the doorway, he did not look back.

"I don't want to marry you. I want to work for you. My father will send me out of the country if I have no future here, and I need a bit of time to find a husband- not you!" she added quickly, "and settle down and have my own life. But there are so few positions he considers acceptable for a pureblooded girl, and I- I just can't go to Russia!"

She had come here to persuade Malfoy that she was a competent young lady, and an asset to his household. Narcissa was quite convinced she had just failed at doing so brilliantly.

"Miss Black, please, go."

With the last shreds of dignity she retained, she rose and showed herself to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"Narcissa. For goodness sake, Narcissa Black, wake up!"

"Mother," she moaned, drawing the blankets up to her chin. "I don't want-"

"Now!" Simultaneously, Druella ripped the blankets off her youngest daughter and tore the curtains open with a flick of her wand, so glaring sunlight poured in the room. "Get dressed- and hurry! Wear something _nice,_ but not too formal."

Scowling, Narcissa obeyed, stumbling across the room to her wardrobe and shuffling through her few gowns.

"This one?"

"Yes, yes that's fine. Hurry, put up your hair, look _decent_, won't you?"

"I'll try," she returned bitterly.

"The moment you're ready, come down to the parlor."

"Parlor?" she echoed, but her mother had already swept from the room. The parlor was used infrequently, since the Blacks so rarely had guests who merited its formality. Narcissa did the laces of her gown, struggling somewhat, but their sole elf ignored her summons. Because of this, she took much longer than usual, and fearful that her mother would be growing impatient, Narcissa merely tugged her unbrushed locks into a ponytail and dashing from the room, foregoing shoes altogether.

"Ah, here she is, at last." Cygnus gave a small, strained smile as Narcissa entered the room. Her mother was nowhere in sight, but Lucius Malfoy was perched in an armchair, looking decidedly impatient. Narcissa froze, letting her gown swing forward to hide her bare toes.

"I certainly hope that this isn't the hour at which you usually rise," he drawled slowly. Narcissa flushed as his critical gaze swept over her disheveled appearance.

_I certainly hope that this isn't the hour at which you usually call on people,_ she thought churlishly. However, she adopted a contrite tone. "My apologies, Mr. Malfoy. I wasn't expecting company."

"This is hardly a social visit. I am here in regards to the offer you made yesterday. Although..." His lip curled as he regarded her. "Perhaps-"

"Mr. Malfoy and I have already discussed the terms!" Cygnus cut in quickly, before the offer could be retracted. "I thought it would be prudent to share them with you."

"You two discussed terms?" _Without me? Why, of all the misogynistic-_

"Yes. You will be living at the Malfoy Manor, acting as a governess for my son. You will have help, of course, but he will spend the majority of the time in your care, and as he grows, you would act as an instructor in both basic and Classical areas- I suppose you are sufficient in both?"

"Perhaps not as skilled as a trained tutor, but certainly as proficient as a mother would be."

Almost unnoticeably, the muscles in Lucius's jaw tightened. "You are not to be his mother."

"Of course. I was merely using simile to illustrate my proficiency."

"Fine." Lucius rose. "You will gather your belongings and say your goodbyes; I'll expect you by supper."

* * *

"You understand the fundamental goal of your job, but there are some details we should probably discuss. Your room will be beside the nursery, and you should find your accommodations there satisfactory. A maid shall attend to my son's baser needs, but you will feed him, and the three of us will eat supper each night, excepting your day off, which is Saturday, and nights when I am detained by business. I often work in town, but even on the days I remain at home, you are not to disturb me except for emergencies. I presume you are intending to devote a large part of your life to this job; the contract will be broken only by my word, your marriage, or firm legal complaints on your part. I do not tolerate transience, Miss Black. Should you fulfill the full term of your contract, you will remain here until Draco's tenth birthday, and by then, he should be prepared for schooling."

"Tenth? Not eleventh?"

"I'll be sending him to Durmstrang."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose. "How dreadful."

Lucius spun to face her, eyes flashing. "You will not question my authority as a parent," he hissed. "I do not need to explain my motives to you."

"That'll make for good suppertime conversation," she muttered under her breath.

"Enough, Miss Black. If you are planning on teaching my son impudence, you may leave now, before the seeds of rebellion are planted."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. May I call you Lucius?"

"Absolutely not. Shall we continue the tour? This is the library. As Draco grows, you should find a surplus of teaching materials, and some books suitable for infancy. You will want to keep him entertained- feel free to take him around the grounds, but I would prefer that you do not take him in public until he is at least sixth months old. Additionally, do not speak to the press regarding your position here under any circumstances. You will be given a weekly allowance of seven hundred galleons, in addition to your salary. I expect you to use it to purchase appropriate clothing and other necessities for yourself and Draco. You are to plan weekly menus, and give the instructions to my chef. Insure that the house elves are not remiss in their duties. You will have your own personal elf to assist you. Your room is here; all of your belongings have been brought in, though I expect you to use your allowance to update the façade you present in public. As an employee to the Malfoy name, an image of poverty will not be acceptable. Any questions?"

Narcissa was feeling torn from the cool, indifferent speech. On the one hand, she resented his dismissive criticism of her family's monetary plight; on the other, she was thrilled by the prospect of hundreds of galleons each week at her disposal.

"Should I be prepared to entertain guests?" she asked at length. Lucius hesitated.

"Draco will need interaction with children his own age. There are several families with children near his age... but social interaction will not be hugely beneficial until he is a year old. Ask me again in a year."

"But don't you have any-"

"I said a year, Miss Black," he cut in. His voice was tight, and Narcissa fell silent. "And then, perhaps..." he broke off, expression distant. For a long, uncomfortable moment, Narcissa waited, until he continued, too forcefully, "A year. Now, would you-"

"Could I ask you a question, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I'd prefer it if you did not. However, given our arrangement, I'm beginning to see that questions may be unavoidable. What is it?"

"What made you change your mind? Yesterday you could scarcely stand to have me sit in your house, and now you're inviting me to move in-"

"I am not 'inviting you to move in,' Miss Black. I am revising a hiring decision. After our discussion last night it occurred to me that perhaps it would benefit my son to have an influence in his life that would assure he could conduct himself in the presence of decent company. I am quite busy with work, and do not have the time to devote my life to teaching him the minutiae of our society."

"So last night," she said slowly, "You realized that I was right?" she asked with an impish grin. He narrowed his eyes.

"You are a somewhat intolerable girl, Miss Black. I know your family, and I know you were raised by the virtues I would like you to teach my son, but if I find that you are failing to do so, your contract will be immediately terminated. There is a business contact of mine, Alexander Vrensky, who has been looking for a wife to run his household after his three grown children have all moved out. Perhaps I should give his name to your father, in case this arrangement doesn't work out? I've been told he was quite handsome man, three decades ago."

"Mr. Malfoy!" she gasped, taken aback by the threat. "I-"

"I suggest you hold your tongue, Miss Black. I'm growing tired of your chatter already, and you've only been here an hour."

She longed to offer a tart retort, but believed that he would be true to his word, and so remained silent.

"That's better," Lucius gave her a smug look. "Now, would you like to meet Draco?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I love him, Regulus."

"Merlin, Narcissa, already? You've been working there a bloody week. Your letter said he was horrible and-"

"Not _Malfoy._ I love Draco. He's perfect, Reg. He's like a tiny perfect doll and I just hold him and read to him all the time and his maid takes care of nappies and such; playing house is so _fun!_"

"You're not playing house, Cis," Regulus sighed, rolling his eyes. "You're a working woman now."

"You say potato, I say hundreds of galleons a week to buy gowns and have lunch with my favorite cousin on my day off." She beamed at him. "And Draco naps all the time, I can write letters and play piano and read _Witch Weekly _and once I've been there a while I'm sure I can start having visitors. If Malfoy weren't such a troll, I think my life would be perfect."

"His wife died a week ago, Narcissa. Give the man a break."

"Still," she pouted, examining her newly-manicured nails. Regulus laughed.

"Ah, I see what the real issue here is. He doesn't adore you yet? You're too used to Hogwarts boys, Narcissa. See what you get for being so rude to all of them all these years?"

"None of them were marriageable anyway," she retorted quickly. "Mother and Father would've killed me for getting too friendly."

Regulus shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Give it some time Cis. He'll come panting after you like all the rest after he's gotten over losing the love of his life and mother of his child. I'm sure of it."

"Well I'm not," she huffed. "He's a positive bore, he's much too old for me, and all he cares about is work. He hardly ever speaks to me, even though we eat together. He's not even handsome."

Regulus raised his eyebrows, and Narcissa relented.

"Well alright I suppose some might think him handsome. But I doubt he'll even marry again. He doesn't like people and he's already got an heir, what more does he need?"

"You're right, he has it all. Money, a son, and you, sleeping innocently just down the hall for when he needs comforting late at night..." he broke off with a suggestive grin. Narcissa scowled.

"That's not funny, Regulus. You know I won't do that. Even if I wanted to, even if _he _wanted to... when I'm ready to get married, can't you imagine what kind of scrutiny I'll be under? Having lived with an unmarried man, raising his child. I'll need to be a proven virgin if I can even hope for a decent man. Otherwise they'll just brand me Malfoy's whore and be done with me."

"I s'pose you're right," Regulus conceded. "Better watch yourself though. From what I understand, he was quite the ladies' man back in the day. But of course, we were only little children then..."

"Recently dead wife, remember? There's not much to watch out for. He doesn't like me at all, anyway. I predict he'll get married in ten or fifteen years from now, to a nice, childless widow or something. Someone equally dull and listless."

"Even the most lifeless of men can be perked up by a sparkle of youth, pretty Cissy," he drawled with a wink. She rolled her eyes and took a sip of coffee.

"You think you're a real wit, don't you? Tell me, has Aunt Walburga got any plans for you yet? What with Sirius out of the picture and all."

"He is indeed, for good at last, thank Merlin. She hasn't said anything yet, but then, I haven't graduated yet either. Our fortunes are about as sad as yours though, so there aren't exactly fathers lining up to give their daughters away. My mother won't like it, but I'll probably have to end up with a girl who has some questionable lineage but a huge dowry. It's the only practical thing to do."

As always when Regulus spoke of his romantic future, his bright eyes clouded. Narcissa laid a comforting hand over his. "Look on the positive side, Reg. At least we're both poor, otherwise they'd probably be setting up a wedding for the two of us! That would _really _be dreadful."

He forced a laugh, but his expression became even darker. "You think? Really that terrible?"

"Well of course! You're like my brother. And our children would be grotesque, I wager."

"Would it be all bad? We get on well, and we could do whatever we wanted all the time." He had a far-off look in his eyes, and he patted the hand which covered his own absently. "We'd be free."

"You're silly," Narcissa replied, kissing his cheek with a giggle. He blinked, and his expression cleared.

"Am I? Well you're a tease and flirt," he growled, pulling her close and snapping at her playfully. She shrieked, drawing irritated glances from the other patrons of the coffee shop.

"Stop it, Reg!" she struggled laughingly, her face pressed to his chest.

"Make me. You might be older Cissy darling, but I'm not a child you can bully anymore," he taunted, grinning as he mussed her hair.

"You always were ticklish," she retorted, her fingers darting to his midsection.

"Pax!" he cried instantly, releasing her, allowing her the straighten up and fix her hair as she beamed triumphantly.

"That's no way to catch a husband, Narcissa," he mimicked the tone of her mother with frightening accuracy. "You must behave like a lady."

"Ladies flirt," she argued.

"Not the proper ones. The proper ones just sit around look lovely and demure all the time."

"Not so. Not when they're young, anyway. I made plans with Lyla tonight, but let's go dancing next weekend Regulus. You're the most fun to dance with."

He grinned. "Bet you can't get Malfoy to dance with you, huh?"

"He'd sooner lose a leg, I'm sure," she sighed. "I've got to go, but I'll see you next week!" She pecked his cheek quickly, and when she rose, bumped unintentionally into a handsome man who had been sitting at a nearby table. A profusion of apologies later, he escorted Narcissa to the door, expressing fervent desire to see her again. Narcissa did not notice Regulus's eyes on them as they walked out onto the street.

* * *

The Manor was silent. Narcissa gave a little shiver, tugging at the sleeves of her robes and let a tiny, petulant huff escape her lips. She hadn't really lied to Regulus the day before: she did adore Draco, and her first week had gone as well as could be expected. The pay was more than generous, and she did have a great deal of time to herself. Lucius was cold whenever she saw him, but that was rare. She knew she should be thrilled to have found such a position and could now stay in England but... she was utterly, completely, and unbearably bored. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon, and she had already planned all of the meals for the upcoming week, and set the elves to polishing and sweeping and other chores. Draco was napping, but she knew she would be in trouble if she wandered out of earshot should he awaken. She glanced longing out the window, past the neat gardens (_French, not English, _she noted with scarcely a flicker of interest), at the glittering lake beyond. It was beautiful, and she longed for a swim.

"Hannah," she called softly. The nursemaid appeared almost immediately.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Get the buggy ready for when Draco wakes up, which should be any minute. We're going to take him outside."

"Excellent plan m'lady, I was just thinking that he could use a bit of fresh air."

Narcissa smiled, pleased she had decided properly. "We'll take him down by the lake. Be sure that the carriage is covered to protect him from the sun."

"Of course ma'am."

Once Hannah left, Narcissa quickly changed into a swimming costume she had purchased the previous day in Diagon Alley and slipped on a luxurious, short cover-robe. She paused to admire her reflection. A soft knock interrupted her moment of vanity.

"All read to go, ma'am."

"Lovely!" Narcissa chirped. She opened the door, and took Draco from the nurse's arms. "Good afternoon, my sweet prince," she crooned. "Ready to go outside? You haven't been out at all yet, have you? Sweet darling." She continued to murmur affectionate words to him as they descended the stairs, but surrendered him to his maid once they reached the entry hall. "Be sure he's properly shaded," Narcissa ordered. "We mustn't stay out too long. But come, come!"

The cool water of the lake was heaven. Narcissa swam several long, smooth strokes, and sighed in contentment. Glancing over her shoulder, she ascertained that Draco's buggy was parked beneath a tree, and Hannah stood by attentively. Satisfied, Narcissa drove beneath the water, and resurfaced beaming.

"It's most beautiful today, is it not?" she called brightly. Hannah smiled.

"It certainly is, ma'am."

Narcissa let her eyes rove over the sweeping expanse of the Grounds. The Malfoy holding was impressive, and she was determined to explore it all as Draco grew- the gardens, of course, but the shady glens and meadows beyond as well. She wondered what sort of creatures were held here, for sport and for show. She had already admired the splendid peacocks, and suspected they were only the beginning. Perhaps even unicorns dwelt in the golden forest.

Her gaze wandered up to the Manor itself; a stately stone edifice, breathtaking in its beauty. It was appointed with every luxury, but still tasteful. The windows glittered in the sunshine, and she smiled to think that she resided here, even if only as an employee. It was, however, a dark place from within... she could only hope that the gloominess would lift in the coming months.

She plunged beneath the water once more, and began to swim laps. It was so nice to be out of doors, enjoying the fresh, early summer air. She wondered what she would be doing in she were home right now; more than likely arguing with Bellatrix and interfering with wedding plans. To think, Bella married. To Rodolphus Lestrange, too... Narcissa supposed it would be a decent match, if they didn't kill one another. The man was absolutely terrifying, in her opinion, but Bella would almost certainly be able to handle his legendary rages with her own manic fury. He was six years Narcissa's senior, so she had seen very little of him in her Hogwarts days, but she remembered finding the massive upperclassman most unnerving. He towered over all the other Slytherins at well over six and a half feet, but his handsome face was oddly cherubic. He had clear blue eyes, shaggy brown hair and an easy smile with deep dimples- which stood at odds with the fact that he was constantly in detention for brawling with other students, and he was the most violent Beater any school Quidditch team had ever seen. If he'd been merely surly and snide, like his younger brother Rabastan, his malice would have been expected, but his quick, loud laughter, which frequently rang through the common room in Narcissa's first year, had always given her chills.

She tried to picture her sister sitting down to a pleasant breakfast with the brute. Sitting across the table, reading the _Daily Prophet_ over tea and scones... She couldn't do it. Oh well; they'd find some other activity to engage in together.

Narcissa's head broke through the surface of the lake, and she sucked in a deep, glorious breath of air.

"What in _Merlin's name _do you think you are doing?" Malfoy's voice shot through the air like the crack of a whip. She turned with a gasp.

"I... I'm swimming," she replied, nonplussed. He stood on the dock, swathed in long dark robes and a full-length cloak, despite the warmth. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes were narrowed.

"You expose my son to the outdoors because, what, I suppose you've grown bored already? I cannot have a child caring for my only heir-"

"It's perfectly good for him!" Narcissa retorted, paddling over to the dock and pulling herself up. "Fresh air won't harm him, he's in the shade and he's attended by a nurse." She drew up to her full height and placed her hands on her hips, staring back in challenge. And then, suddenly aware of her drenched self and scanty attire, she subtly shifted her weight and tilted her head. Surely he would notice... his eyes would travel the length of her body, he would become flustered, he would stumble over his next sentence, the image of her lithe form would stay in his head for days... she would be in control.

"I think from now on you should discuss outings with me until he is at least a month old. I would prefer if you remained in the Manor. If you are convinced he requires fresh air, there are ample balconies, including one from the nursery, and your own chambers."

His eyes remained locked on hers, unwavering. He seemed oblivious to the fact that she was hardly dressed, and his stern expression did not waver. This unexpected coldness caused Narcissa to flush, feeling suddenly exposed rather than powerful.

"Yes, alright," she muttered mutinously, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around herself. "I'll take him in."

He nodded once, turned on one heel and strode off across the sloping lawn.

"What an ogre," she hissed under her breath once he was safely out of earshot. She shook her head, and returned to Draco and his nurse beneath the tree.

"A letter for you, ma'am. The owl flew over just moments ago."

"Thank you," she extended a hand for the parchment with as much regality as she could muster after the humiliating ordeal. To make matters worse, it was a note from her mother. She pulled her robe back on, and read it as they ambled back to the Manor.

_Dearest Narcissa,_

_I do hope your first week has gone well. I am writing with a piece of exciting news. The Welsh branch of the Fawley family, the members of which have been residing in America for the past twenty five years due to an unfortunate mishap with the Statute of Security, have returned to their holdings in Wales. It is unclear yet whether this move is permanent, however, I remember Mrs. Fawley, formerly Miss Prewett, well from our girlhood days, and I have taken the liberty of inviting them to call on us at your Aunt's home as soon as they are settled. The reason this is of import to you, my dear, is because the eldest Fawley son, a young Mr. Gareth, has accompanied them, along with his two younger sisters. The Fawley family has done quite well for themselves over the past two and a half decades in America. Your presence is mandated during their visit; I will write to you with further details when I have them._

Narcissa finished the letter as they reached the steps of the Manor. If her mother had already found a potential suitor, she mused triumphantly, perhaps her days here were already numbered.


	4. Chapter 4

Narcissa stared down at her truffled herb salad, and for one moment had a wild fantasy of the leaves screaming in agony as she speared them with her fork. _Anything_ to break the monotony of silence as she and Lucius sat eating dinner.

"So... how was work today?"

Lucius made a sound which she suspected was a stifled, long-suffering sigh. "Fine."

"What is it that you do, precisely?"

"I have an office at the Ministry."

"Yes, but what-"

"That's really all you need to know about it."

"So I can claim plausible deniability?" she joked, earning a swift, suspicious glare. She bit back and exasperated sigh of her own, and the silence stretched on for several more minutes.

"Draco's been turning his head well," she offered brightly. "Hannah says it's a sign his neck is strong and he'll probably try to lift it early on."

"Indeed."

"You haven't been in to see him yet today. For a couple days, actually."

"I have have been busy, Miss Black."

"Yes, but Hannah says-"

"Did you make it a habit," he interrupted, "of constantly discussing the help over supper at your home growing up, Miss Black?"

Narcissa stared at him, appalled. "Certainly not, _Mr. Malfoy,_ but she knows far more about children than you or I, and she's the only adult I speak to throughout the week," she replied through gritted teeth. "I should like to think you'd appreciate the careful attention to your son, and like to know about his progress."

"Careful attention was the reason I hired you, and I expect nothing less. As for the updates, let me know when he begins walking or speaking, if I've been unable to observe those things for myself. It matters very little that he can _turn his head_."

Narcissa flushed with outrage. She knew she should hold her tongue, but blurted anyway, "Well, it would matter a great deal if he couldn't!"

He stared at her, clearly incredulous that she would not let the topic rest. "Again," he said slowly, as though speaking to someone very dense, "if there is something _of concern_ going on with Draco, I of course expect to be notified. I do not need you to let me know what his movements are every moment of every day. If such things were of import, I would leave my post at the Ministry and watch them myself with thrall. I do not know if you are aware of events happening outside of your colorful, delightfully isolated imagination, but unfortunately there are greater things to worry about than the head turning of an infant," he finished sharply.

Narcissa forced herself to take a deep, quivering breath. She had never wanted to strike another person so badly in her entire life, but instead stabbed at her salad with renewed venom.

"However," he began again, and Narcissa's eyes snapped to him, ready fight back, "I will see him this evening."

Narcissa wasn't sure if she should feel as though she had won a small battle, or been utterly defeated and then patronized. The rest of the meal passed in silence.

* * *

"_"__Jacques: _Il ne sert à rien!Je ne peux pas bouger sortir de là -"" Narcissa broke of abruptly, and turned to see Lucius was standing in the doorway, watching as she read aloud to his sleepy son.

"How long were you there?" she demanded, still resentful from supper. He ignored the question, and strode forward to pluck the play she was reading out of her hand, without bothering to make note of her spot. She opened her mouth to protest, but glanced down at the boy in her arms, nearly asleep, and thought better.

_"__Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds,_" Lucius read from the cover. "Why are you reading this to him?"

"I might as well start him getting used to other languages as early as possible," she replied reasonably. He frowned.

"This is a satire on government, not a children's book."

Narcissa glared at him. "I know what it is. Malecrit was the most influential author during-"

"_I know who Malecrit is_," he cut her off, visibly irritated. "I am not asking you to write me an essay on his contributions to Ministerial reform. I am asking why you are reading this to my infant son."

"He likes being read to sleep."

"So read him children's books," he retorted, again adopting a slow, condescending tone. Narcissa immediately bristled, but before she could argue that any book at all would be fine at this age, she was simply getting him accustomed to language and her presence, Lucius raised a dismissive hand, and instructed her to put Draco in his cradle.

"Don't you want to hold him?"

Lucius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are exhausting and belligerent, Miss Black. Do as I say and then return to your chambers. Thank you."

Narcissa obeyed stiffly, but paused when she reached the door.

"You mustn't always fight me," she told him as calmly as she could manage. "For his sake. Of course it doesn't much matter now, when he's so little, but if you're going to treat me like I haven't a clue what I'm doing, then he will too, as he gets older. There was really no point in hiring me if I'm just going to be like another maid he can boss around. You wanted me to structure his childhood. You have to let me do that."

Lucius did not look up at her; his eyes were fixed on his son. He merely murmured "Good night, Miss Black," and she wondered if the softened tone was due to Draco's presence, or because he was considering her point.

* * *

The following Saturday, Narcissa rose early. Her mother had owled two days before, requesting her attendance for a brunch with the Fawleys. She was determined to look perfect for the event; after all, if this Gareth was half decent, she was determined to make him her husband. She shimmied into a newly purchased morning gown, a lovely periwinkle confection of silk and lace and delicate gold embroidery. Once she was satisfied that she looked positively irresistible, she snatched up her matching bag and set out. However, she found herself unable to leave without first peeking in on Draco.

He was just waking up when she popped her head in the room. She stood by to his cradle to press a kiss to his velvety forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow, my little darling," she crooned, turning to go. As soon as she drew back, he began to cry. "Oh, darling," she sighed, unable to resist scooping him up for just a moment, "Hannah will be in in a moment, she'll feed you today," she assured him mindlessly, nuzzling his little wisp of flaxen hair. No sooner had she spoken, the door opened. "Right on time!" she sang, turning in preparation to hand him off to his nursemaid. However, it was Lucius who stood before her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded unthinkingly. He arched a brow.

"I could ask you the same thing. By terms of our agreement, today is your day off." His eyes skated over her gown in puzzlement. "What are you wearing?"

Fury quickly flared. "I could ask _you _the same thing!" she shot back lamely. True, he was not dressed for business as he had been every other time she had seen him, but his attire of a pressed white button-down shirt and black trousers was still entirely standard. He stared at her, nonplussed.

"Oh, just take him then," she huffed, flushing with embarrassment. She wanted to ask him just what was so wrong with the dress- it had, after all, been purchased at the most upscale of boutiques, and was by a well-known designer. To spare the humiliation, she refrained.

"Put him down," he commanded, refusing to take Draco from her arms. Narcissa rolled her eyes but wordlessly obeyed, already running a bit late. No time to change then.

When Narcissa arrived at her Aunt Walburga's house on Grimmauld Place, an unfamiliar carriage out front indicated that the Fawley's had already arrived. Cursing softly under her breath, Narcissa hurried into the gloomy entryway.

"Where are they, Kreacher?" she demanded of the ugly little elf that greeted her. "The parlour?"

He nodded as he bowed profusely, and she rushed past him.

"Ah, Narcissa darling, there you are! I was wondering when you might arrive." Her mother's smile was forced.

"Apologies," she replied as demurely as she could manage, but offered no explanation. She didn't want to put the image of her bickering with Malfoy into any of their heads.

"Dear, allow me to introduce Mrs. Fawley," Druella began. Narcissa smiled sweetly and bobbed into a small curtsy. She kept her eye fixed on the older woman, though she longed to look about and see the mysterious Gareth instead.

"How do you do, Narcissa?" she asked kindly. She sounded American, but Narcissa chose to be gracious anyway.

"Quite well, thank you Mrs. Fawley. And yourself?"

"Well, thank you. Narcissa, these are my daughters, Addiena and Eilwen."

The two girls sat side by side on a small couch. One was rather plump and the other quite bony, but they had the same brown eyes and black curls. Not terrible, Narcissa decided, hoping their brother was decent as well.

"And my eldest, Gareth."

At last Narcissa permitted herself to turn to the only male in the room. For a moment she forgot to reply. He wasn't passable- he was positively handsome. He lounged easily in an arm chair, and rose with a feline grace to take her hand and bow over it.

"Miss Black," he murmured quietly, but his eyes sparkled and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards to indicate that he was also pleased with what he saw.

"Narcissa, please," she insisted gently. "I couldn't bear such formalities among family friends."

He grinned as he straightened up. "Nor can I. You must only call me Gareth." He was so tall! she noted giddily. Like his sisters, he had dark hair, but his eyes were blue. She had never dared to hope he might be so good looking!

"Narcissa," Druella's voice had warmed considerably, seeing how pleased the two were with each other. "Why don't you show Gareth to the garden out back."

Narcissa tried not to cringe at her mother's words. The garden here was a measly affair, nothing like the grounds she had grown up on. Still, it would offer a bit of privacy.

"Yes, of course. This way," she smiled warmly and led Gareth through the house. She wondered what she should say first. Perhaps ask him about America? It would be a challenge to hide her distaste on the subject, but she could surely manage.

However, when the walked into the fresh air, it was Gareth he spoke first. He turned to face her, and took both her hands.

"Here, wait." He spread her arms, eyes taking in the length of her. "You're even more dazzling in the sunlight," he commented airily, and she offered a delighted little grin. "That is a lovely gown."

"New from Madam Hecate," she replied, rattling off the upscale designer breezily.

"Hm, yes, I though so," he retorted immediately, causing Narcissa to burst into laughter.

"Alright, so tease me, I'm only a girl, and I get excited about such frivolous things, even if men can't see the point."

He grinned at her. "I think we're going to get along well, Narcissa. Tell me, is there more to you than excellent taste in clothing?"

"_I _like to think so," she flirted back. "Though that's certainly one of my best traits."

He tucked her hand familiarly into the crook of his arm with a warm chuckle, and they began the short circuit around the garden.


	5. Chapter 5

When Narcissa returned to the Malfoy Manor late that evening, she was singing. She and Gareth had talked for hours, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd had such perfect day. Before he left, Gareth had covertly pecked her cheek and promised to write soon.

Positively giddy, Narcissa increased the volume of her song, and twirled in delight as she glided though the entry hall. How could she have managed to be so lucky? She'd come so close to being shipped out of the country and into the bed of some old, decrepit wizard, and now... Now she might be months away from a betrothal to a delightful and handsome man. Her wedding would would be a winter one-

"Is that noise quite necessary?"

Narcissa spun with a startled gasp. Lucius was glaring at her from the doorway of his study.

"Apologies, Mr. Malfoy," she replied with a cheeky grin. "How was your day?"

He gave her a measured stare. "Are you drunk?"

She was too happy to be annoyed. "Why, sadly, I'm not. Shall we have a drink together, then?"

He ignored the question. "Keep your voice down. Draco is sleeping."

"Draco loves my singing," she responded lightly. Lucius stepped back into his study and closed the door, effectively ending the conversation.

"Well, jokes on you," she muttered mutinously, "I'm getting married soon!"

The door reopened immediately, and she flushed. "I, er, didn't realize you could hear me," she explained uncomfortably.

"You've already secured a fiance?" Lucius inquired, lips twisting wryly.

"Not... not technically. But I met a man today-"

"Flaunting your desire for a wedding ring to the general populace on your day off, Miss Black?" he sneered. Good mood finally evaporated, she narrowed her eyes.

"Actually, _Mr. Malfoy,_ an old family has recently returned to the United Kingdom, and the matriarch just happens to be an dear friend of my mother. They also happen to have a son seeking to settle down now that they've returned to their original establishment. I met him today, and he was positively a gentleman."

"Is that so?" Lucius drawled, crossing his arms over his chest with a vague smirk. "Well, by all means, feel free to give me notice of your resignation."

Narcissa glowered at him, wishing to hex the sneer off his face. "Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

* * *

The next morning, Draco was restless, and would stop fussing only in Narcissa's arms. She meandered aimlessly around the Manor cradling the boy as her mind wandered. She should write to Bella and hear all about the wedding. Perhaps, if all went well, by the time of the ceremony, she would have her own wedding to think about, with Gareth. He was so clever, so quick to laugh. She liked the way his blue eyes matched hers; their children would would be lovely. She recalled the thrill of resting her hand on his arm, the gentle swell of his bicep beneath her light touch through the rich fabric of his impeccable robes. She'd never met a wizard so fashionably dressed, and felt that he would be one of those rare boys who wouldn't mind going to shops with her. Clothes, looks, they already had so much in common.

Narcissa drifted into the large parlor adjacent to to main entrance to the house. It was intended for receiving social visitors (business contacts would be whisked straight to the primary study, she assumed). The was an air of disuse about the chamber, though it was kept remarkably clean. She headed over to the large windows overlooking the grounds of the Manor. There was a stunning view of the lake she'd been scolded for enjoying...

From the entry hall, Narcissa was startled to hear a sudden, sharp knock. Lucius had not had any guests yet that she was aware of, but she supposed he might have invited an associate over to discuss work. An elf answered the door, and Narcissa listened intently.

"Master is not wanting any visitors, Miss."

"He'll see me," a calm female voice replied. Narcissa's curiosity was further piqued, and she turned from the window.

"He is saying no one at all," the creature squeaked nervously.

"Tell him there's a Miss Derwent waiting for him in the drawing room. I'll be right in here."

They were immediately outside the room where Narcissa lingered now, and before she could move, a tall woman strode confidently into the room.

She looked to be about thirty. She was dressed in a simple but well-made black robe, and her dark brown hair was pulled up into a neat chignon. Her eyes widened when she spotted Narcissa.

"Oh my! I wasn't expecting to see anyone. Who are you?" The woman's voice was soft and lilting, and she smiled gently as she spoke. Despite herself, Narcissa returned the smile.

"Narcissa Black. I apologize, I was only walking with Draco; I didn't realize Mr. Malfoy was expecting guests."

"Oh, he's not," the woman assured her quickly. "Lucius and I have been friends since school, I only just got back to the country, or else I would have been here sooner. I heard about Cecilia's passing while I was abroad... So terrible. She was such a lovely girl." She paused, her eye alighting upon the infant in Narcissa's arms. "Is this their boy? Draco, you said? May I hold him?"

Narcissa was surprised by a swift surge of protectiveness. She did not want to hand Draco over, even to this seemingly-kind and gentle woman, but she could find no excuse not to.

"Friends from school you said?" Narcissa chatted as she grudgingly surrendered Draco. "I can't imagine him with friends."

The woman seemed startled by such candor, but after a moment gave a sad smile. "He has become rather cold these past few years. When I knew him, he was... well, still arrogant as he's always been, and never warm, but he was a star Quidditch player; precocious, the professors loved him. He had many more friends than just me, I assure you, though he's fallen out of touch with most. He and I weren't even in the same house, but we always got along well."

"Ravenclaw?" Narcissa guessed, as that was the only acceptable other house for Slytherins to associate with. The woman smiled as though she'd followed Narcissa's reasoning perfectly.

"Indeed. I'm sorry, I haven't given my name yet. I'm Lucille Derwent."

"Lovely to meet you."

"Lucille?" They both turned upon Lucius's arrival.

"Lucius," she returned warmly, "I was just admiring you sweet boy."

"I thought you were in France for another three months."

"Plans change," she retorted breezily, tenderly handing Draco back to Narcissa. "I wanted to offer my condolences."

"Was there something else you needed, Miss Black?" Lucius drawled in dismissal. Narcissa scowled, but walked from the room nonetheless. However, curiosity got the best of her. She was ashamed to do so, but when she left the room, she left the door ajar, to listen to the two talk.

"Might I ask why you have a lovely Black girl caring for your son?" Lucille asked pleasantly. "She's simply delightful. I must say though, I know things were bad for you and Cece in the last years, but to give her less than a month-"

"Miss Black is his caregiver, nothing more. I made an arrangement with her father; she will stay here while she seeks a husband. I couldn't have hoped for someone of better blood to be tending to Draco."

"But she's hardly more than a child herself. I heard whispers about it all the way in Paris... How Lucius Malfoy had a girl barely out of school living in his house alone with him. And now that I see how pretty she is... well, surely you must know that people are talking."

"Let them talk. It takes more than the whispers of old women and cowards to bother me."

"But think of the poor girl. What man will want her after you-"

"I haven't touched her," he interrupted with venom. "And I assure you I haven't the slightest intention or inclination to do so. This is what is best for my son, short of the care of a mother."

There was a long pause. Lucille spoke at last, "After a decent amount of time has passed... you could do worse than a Black girl, Lucius. Much worse. She and Draco will have grown to be inseparable, it would be the decent thing to-"

"I have no plans to be married again. Especially not to- as you said yourself- a girl hardly out of school."

Before she could hear Lucille's response, a knock at the front door caused her to start. She instinctively moved to answer it without waiting for an elf, for fear that Lucius would emerge and catch her lingering and listening. She heaved open the giant ebony door, to reveal Gareth standing with his hands jammed in his pockets, an impish grin on his face. A thrill of shock darted through her.

"Gareth!" she exclaimed in a whisper, eyes darting towards the room where Lucius sat. "What on earth-"

"I shouldn't be bothering you," he grinned, leaning forward conspiratorially. "But I had to see you without parents hovering over our shoulders. I know you're working here and I should've owled but, ah..." he looked down and then back up at her, his bright blue eyes glimmering. "I wanted to see you," he murmured.

Narcissa felt her face flushing with pleasure, and she bit back her own smile. "Well, I suppose it's more convenient than writing back and forth," she agreed, flicking her hair back and wishing suddenly that she wasn't holding a newborn.

"Come to dinner with me next weekend," he proposed confidently. "And then we'll go dancing."

She wanted to blurt an enthusiastic 'yes,' but forced herself to retain a hint of propriety. "We mustn't be alone together, you know that. My mother-"

"You're young and beautiful, darling. Live a little. You can trust me to not infringe upon you honor," he added with a wry chuckle. "But if you think a chaperon is necessary-"

"My cousin!" she exclaimed, delighted with the sudden idea. "My cousin Regulus. And my best friend Lyla- we can all go together!"

Gareth beamed at her. "Sounds like a party. I'll pick you up at nine on Friday."


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Gareth arrived, Narcissa had spent two hours perfecting her hair and make up, and changed at least half a dozen times. When an elf arrived to tell her that a man was calling for her, she gave Draco a quick kiss goodbye, for luck, and walked at the most dignified pace she could manage down the stairs to greet him.

He was slouched carelessly in the door frame, hands thrust in his pockets, chatting amiably with Hannah. Narcissa felt an irrational dart of jealousy; he was here to see her, after all, and she did like the nurse, but she called out anyway, in what she hoped was a regal manner,

"Hannah, could you go see to Draco? You know Mr. Malfoy doesn't like him to be left alone."

The girl flushed and nodded quickly, scampering off to the nursery. Gareth beamed up at her.

"Hello, beautiful. My dear, you are quite stunning." He held out a hand, which she accepted, and twirled her to admire the full effect of her new gown.

"Are your friends meeting us here?"

"No, we're meeting them out."

"Then let's be off," he replied with a grin, offering his arm gallantly. She returned his smile, and rested her hand lightly on his arm.

"We're going to a restaurant with wonderful music," she explained as they walked down the steps of the Manor. "Mr. Malfoy kindly agreed to allow us to use one of his carriages. Horseless carriages, just like at Hogwarts!" she exclaimed brightly. "Did you have something similar? What was school like in America?"

She glanced up at Gareth for his reply, but he had slowed and seemed paler, staring at the carriage with an odd expression.

"Is everything quite alright?"

He blinked rapidly to clear his expression, and smiled down at her. "Excellent. Although they're not horseless, my dear. I'm glad you can't see them though; they're positively dreadful."

An elf hurried to open the door, and Gareth assisted a baffled Narcissa up into the carriage. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Thestrals, my pet," he offered ambiguously. "But never mind all that. Tell me more about the restaurant we're going to. Tell me about your cousin and friend!" he encouraged warmly.

By the time they arrived in London, Narcissa had quite forgotten about Gareth's odd behavior at the Manor. She had expected to find his stories of America to be crass and dull, but he was a gifted story teller, and when they arrived at _Ballucina _she was laughing so hard she could scarcely catch her breath.

"And he ate it?" she giggled as he helped her to the ground. "He ate the whole thing?"

"What can I say? I'm a very talented actor. Though I was ill for a month afterwards every time I thought of it."

"Well I'd suppose so- look! Lyla and Regulus are already here." She waved eagerly to the two figures waiting by the door. Lyla bounced over to greet them, but Regulus hung back, reservation apparent.

"You must be Gareth," Lyla began without introduction. "The Welsh American. Delighted to have you back, I suppose you have the funniest accent?"

"Sadly I'm told I just sound American," Gareth replied with a tragic sigh, though his eyes sparkled with mirth. "An you must be the effusive Lyla I've heard such wonderful things about." She offered her hand, and Gareth accepted it with a kiss. Narcissa stood by, suddenly uncomfortable again; did his eyes need to be locked with Lyla's as he bent forward? Did he need to linger so long with his lips on her hand?

When he straightened up and released her, Lyla took a small, inelegant step backwards, looking uncharacteristically flustered and confused. "You must meet Reg!" she blurted. Regulus stepped forward, and Gareth grasped his hand warmly with both of his.

"I can't say how pleased I am to meet you," Gareth murmured solemnly. Narcissa was somewhat relieved to see that the intensity of his gaze matched that of the one Lyla had received, and he clasped Regulus's hand for just as long. _It's just his manner;_ she realized he'd been the same way with the maid too, and wanted to scold herself for the jealousy she had felt. "I hope to be spending a great deal of time with your cousin," he continued, still gazing earnestly at Regulus, "and I hope it means I shall be seeing you often as well."

Regulus gave a brief, jerky nod, and tugged his hand away prematurely from Gareth's. For some reason, as she tried to see her cousin as a stranger might, as Gareth might, it occurred to her that he was no longer the little boy she had grown up with and played silly games with in her youth. He was nearly seventeen now; he was taller, his body maturing and broadening, and she realized suddenly that he was quite handsome. This pleased her immensely- she selfishly loved to be surrounded by attractive people, and looking around at their group, Narcissa knew they would make the finest quartet in the establishment.

"Let's be going then!" she chirped, taking Gareth's arm once more and leading the way.

Dinner passed with lively chatter and laughter; after some consideration, Narcissa decided she was thrilled at Gareth's ability to instantly charm anyone he spoke with, from her friends to the waiters for their table. After the dishes had been cleared away from supper but before dessert was served, Gareth stood and held his hand out to Narcissa.

"Come dance with me, my dear."

She accepted giddily (though the giddiness might have something to do with the three glasses of wine she'd had), and he guided her to the large, empty space before the low stage where several couples were already swaying. Lyla and Regulus followed.

"This music won't do. Wait a moment," he commanded as he strode towards the band. He exchanged several words with one of the members playing, and by the time he returned to Narcissa, the tune was a quick, lively one. More young couples were rising to join them.

Narcissa knew she was a good dancer, but Gareth quickly made it clear that he was phenomenal. She could hardly keep up with the twirls he sent her into, the low dips, and the effortless lifts that literally swept her of her feet. After several songs played, she had to plead for a chance to catch her breath. The alcohol was already making her lightheaded, and dancing, paired with his alluring cologne, wasn't helping matters. She pulled Lyla away from the pleasant chat she seemed to be having with Regulus, and drew her friend to the bar, this time begging for water instead of wine.

"Well, what do you think?" Narcissa panted. "Isn't he wonderful?"

"Oh Cissa, I'm too jealous!" Lyla replied with a giggle. "He's wonderfully handsome, and utterly charming. You're so lucky."

Narcissa smiled, satisfied, and looked over to where Gareth was now in deep conversation with her cousin. His hand rested on Regulus's shoulder, and she felt a swell of affection for the pair; perhaps Gareth would come to be like an older brother to Regulus- a proper older brother, not like Sirius had been. Regulus was even smiling by now; his earlier caution seemingly evaporated.

The four of them returned to their table to finish dessert, and after dancing several more songs, it was Narcissa who decided to call it a night. Draco would be up early in the morning, and she with him. Gareth offered to escort her back to the Manor, and though she longed to accept, propriety stayed her enthusiasm.

"It's awfully late..." she mumbled, hoping he would protest. He instantly read her hesitation correctly.

"Perhaps Regulus won't mind joining us then? It's a quick flight."

Narcissa beamed and nodded. Regulus was an ideal chaperon; his presence would still any gossiping tongues if she left with Gareth, but if Gareth decided to walk her to the door... well, obviously her cousin wouldn't object.

"Excellent. I'll go get the cloaks." Gareth swept off, and Narcissa turned to Regulus.

"Did you hear-" she broke off. His expression had darkened again. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think he's right for you, Narcissa."

She blinked in shock. "I beg your pardon? I saw you laughing and talking with him... what would make you say such a thing?"

"He's... I'm sure he's perfect for someone else. But for you... I don't think he's the one for you."

"Nonsense. Please just do this for me? Just fly over to Wiltshire with us, _please_ don't stop him if he tries to kiss me goodnight, and just be happy for me? Please?"

Regulus sighed, looking pained. "If that's really what you want... If you really think he'll make you happy..."

"He will," Narcissa replied firmly. She pecked his cheek. "Thank you, Reg. I... I'm almost certainly going to marry him. If you don't like him... well, can't you try?"

"Yeah," he answered dully. "I can try."

* * *

Narcissa wondered if the ride back to the Manor was strained, of if it was only her imagination after Regulus's reserved words to her. Gareth sat on her left, totally at ease, holding her hand chastely and chatting warmly. He tried repeatedly to draw Regulus into the conversation, but any friendliness the younger boy had shown at the restaurant had apparently vanished. He sat on Narcissa's right, staring stubbornly out the window and giving monosyllabic answers to any direct questions; otherwise he sat in silence. When they finally arrived, Gareth sprang out of the carriage and helped Narcissa down. Narcissa smiled at her cousin and bid him goodbye, but it seemed that Regulus could not even look at her.

"I had a marvelous time this evening," Gareth began as they walked the few steps up to the heavy ebony door. Narcissa nodded, but anticipation choked any response. She paused on the landing and turned to face him, her blush hidden in the dark. He remained on the top step, nearer to her height, and she saw the white gleam of his smile. "Good night, Narcissa."

He leaned in slowly, taking his time and giving her enough to stop him. She did no such thing; she was actually quivering by the time his lips finally touched her. She dared not move a muscle, and instead took in the opportunity to savor everything about their first kiss, trying to store everything to memory for when they had children, grandchildren, and a hundred thousand kisses behind them. She wanted to recall everything about the first. His lips were soft, and gentle, and she liked how that contrasted to the roughness from the trace of stubble on his jaw. And then he was drawing away, all too soon for her liking.

"I'll see you soon," he murmured, kissing her forehead tenderly before returning to the waiting carriage. Narcissa watched them take off; she hoped the ride back alone with her cousin wasn't too awkward.

By the time Narcissa slipped into the darkened entry hall of the Malfoy Manor, she wasn't sure if she was still drunk, or just buoyant with exhilaration. She paused once inside, and pressed her cheek to the soothingly cool wood of the door, trying to gather her wits. Had she not hesitated, she might never have heard it: the soft mutter of voices from down the hall. It was well past three in the morning; she couldn't imagine who might be visiting at such an hour. Knowing full well that she should just go to bed, Narcissa allowed her curiosity to tug her towards the noise, and the light filtering invitingly from Lucius's study.

Meanwhile, Lucius poured himself and his companion each another drink. Lucille laughed, but accepted it nonetheless.

"One more, darling, and I'll begin to think you're trying to take advantage of me."

He chuckled softly as well, a pleasantly deep, rich sound. "Unless my memory entirely fails me, you can drink more than any woman I've ever met. For all the drinking we did in school, I didn't see you drunk until the last night of seventh year, after our exams. Remember? You called shy little Gladys Percy the biggest bore you'd ever met, and hexed her so she couldn't stop tap dancing for an hour."

"Served her right for sitting in the corner and turning her snotty nose up at us whenever she got the chance."

"Yes, but Cecelia was furious with you for months, she said..." he broke off abruptly, his eyes darkening and dropping to the amber fluid in his glass. Lucille offered a sympathetic glance. They had been visiting for hours, but had somehow managed to avoid the obvious ghost in the room until now.

"You should talk about it. It helped me after the accident. I didn't shut myself away and become a miserable widow after Robert died. You mustn't-"

"Stop." He brushed away the gentle hand she had laid on his. "No one is sorrier than I for you loss, but if we dwell on our deceased spouses, we'll ruin the evening."

Lucille pressed her lips together in disapproval, but let it pass. "Very well. Miss Black," she raised her voice, gaze moving to the door, which stood ajar. "Would you care to join us?"

Lucius turned with a scowl, and Narcissa slipped guiltily into the room.

"My apologies," she began, "I didn't mean to intrude, I just heard voices and wanted to make sure everything was... alright. I see it is, I'll just be off to bed then-"

"Nonsense!" The older of the two women offered a warm smile. "Have a drink with us."

"I really shouldn't..."

"I insist."

Torn between her kind, prodding words and Lucius's unwelcoming stare, Narcissa slunk haltingly nearer. Lucille waved her wand and poured the nervous blonde a small measure. Narcissa accepted it and, after a steadying breath, took it the only way she knew how: all at once in a swift, sure movement of her wrist. The other two were speechless for a moment and Narcissa, after setting her glass down, quickly saw her mistake and began to flush, but Lucille burst into warm laughter, which took the sting from Lucius's eye roll.

"I can only guess that you've had a fun night, my dear," she told Narcissa with a wink. And then, to ease Narcissa's apparent discomfort, lifted her drink in a wordless toast, tilted her head, and drained her glass in a similar manner. Lucius made a sound of protest.

"This is twenty five year old scotch, you don't take shots of twenty five year old Glenlivet-"

"Is that all this is?" Lucille interrupted with another tinkling laugh. "You can whine about it when you bring out your _really _good stuff."

With an abrupt glare at his friend, Lucius downed his drink as well and set it on the table with a startling loud clunk. "Well, good night ladies," he hissed, rising from his seat. Before either could protest, he swept from the room. Lucille shook her head in exasperation.

"He's just dreadful sometimes, isn't he?"

"I don't think he likes me very much," Narcissa ventured timidly.

"He doesn't like anything much, quite honestly. Or if he does, he has the strangest way of showing it. But you're here now, he won't fire you for personal reasons, if that's what you're worried about, dear."

Narcissa shook her head. "He threatened to conspire with my father to send me off to Russia to marry some old wizard if I messed up."

Rather than gasp in indignation or sigh in sympathy, Lucille broke down into laughter once again. "Oh, he _would _say something like that, he's always threatening people, it's just a bad habit of his. Some people bite their nails, Lucius threatens people with their worst fears. Don't take him too seriously, or he'll drive you mad. Just take good care of little Draco, and everything will be fine."


	7. Chapter 7

Gareth owled the next day, saying that he'd had the most enjoyable evening he could remember, and he sent roses along with the note. Narcissa displayed both prominently on a table in her bedroom, and felt a thrill every time she saw them. At this rate, he'd be proposing within the month. However, one incident from the night before was still bothering her. She decided to bring it up at dinner, and plotted all day precisely how to do so while still avoiding Lucius's condescension.

She waited until they had been eating for several minutes before broaching the subject.

"Could, er... Could you tell me more about the thestrals?" she asked in what she hoped was a casual voice. Lucius's head rose abruptly, and though he looked surprised, he didn't seem angry.

"They haven't been bothering you, have they?"

"Er... no."

He continued to stare at her curiously. "Can you see them?"

"I, er... I think so."

He rolled his eyes at her timid bluff and resumed eating. She pressed her lips together, and finally confessed.

"Alright, so I can't see them and I don't know what they are. Why can't I see them?"

"Drop it, Miss Black."

But of course she couldn't. "What if I accidentally run into one while I'm walking around the grounds?"

"If you don't bother them, they won't bother you. Which shouldn't be too difficult given that they're very shy and you can't see them. Unless you're carrying around something dead and bloody for them to eat, I can assure you they will keep their distance."

"But what _are _they?"

"They're rather like winged horses."

"But why can't I _see _them?"

"Because you've never seen anyone die," he replied dryly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish eating my supper in peace."

Narcissa _did_ mind, very much in fact, but her next immediate question was not one the Lucius could answer: why could Gareth see them? Had he stood at the bedside of a dying relative, or something more sinister? Should she ask him, or was the ability to see thestrals something intensely private that he would not want to address? She knew the question would come up eventually, but she decided not to pester him about it in her next letter. It wasn't until hours later, when she was settling into bed, that it occurred to her that Lucius must have seen death as well.

* * *

The days passed in relative quiet at the Malfoy Manor in the following weeks. Lucille visited often, and though Narcissa generally only saw brief snatches of her while she was coming or going, she grew more fond of the older woman each day. There was a nurturing softness to her that Narcissa saw rarely in the women she had grown up with... except for in Andromeda. But that sister was out of her life forever, though oftentimes she felt that Lucille's sage advice on anything from hair potions to Draco to her growing romance with Gareth was the sort of advice that Andromeda might have offered. Sometimes, Lucille would join her in the nursery, and the two would play with Draco and talk for hours.

It was during one of the chats that Narcissa learned Lucille's husband, Robert, had died in a horrible hunting accident six years ago. It was clear that speaking of him still pained her greatly, so Narcissa didn't press for details.

Gareth continued to write daily, often sending flowers or chocolates along with his owl. Narcissa delighted at these presents, and the two often went out together on her Saturdays off. Sometime Regulus grudgingly chaperoned, and sometimes Lyla came along as well, but even when they were alone together, he was a perfect gentleman. Sometimes she wished he wouldn't be _quite _so proper when bidding her goodbye.

She was also kept busy corresponding with Bellatrix and their mother about plans for the former's wedding. It was only a month away now, and there was much to be done. Bella seemed entirely bored by the whole affair, but perhaps that was just how her letters read. Based on what she wrote, she seemed to be getting along with Rodolphus reasonably well. She almost never called him 'that horrid beast' anymore and besides, sometimes such terms coming from Bellatrix were meant to be endearing.

Narcissa was expecting nothing extraordinary when she woke up one Thursday morning, several weeks after her first night out with Gareth. She got up at five to feed Draco, and after cuddling and reading to him for an hour, she dressed and headed to breakfast at six thirty. Lucius was often in the office by seven, so it was his preferred hour to dine in the morning. However, when she reached the dining room, she was shocked to see he was not already seated, reading the business or finance section of the paper (sometimes he left her the fashion section or society pages, which she felt was condescending but she read and enjoyed anyway; other times when he was feeling particularly caustic he left her the cartoons which enraged her before the sun was even up).

Today, however, the table was mysteriously empty. "Dobby?" she called, to no avail. With a sense of foreboding, she headed to his private study. She knock tentatively, but needn't have bothered; the room was both unlocked and empty. She knew what she should do in this situation: return to the dining room, eat her meal in peace, then return to the nursery to resume care of Draco. Instead, she set off through the Manor to see if Lucius was in the master suite.

She had never actually seen the inside of Lucius's bedroom before, but he had pointed it out on the tour of the Manor, with explicit instructions that she never, _ever_ enter unless it was a matter of life or death. Draco's life or death, to specific; if _she_ were in mortal danger, it was still no excuse to intrude into his personal space.

She lingered outside the closed double doors, not sure what she was expecting to hear. Snoring? But certainly Mr. Malfoy didn't snore, he was much too refined for that. What she heard instead was low, furious speaking.

"For fuck's sake you're making it worse," Lucius snarled. Narcissa's eyes widened, and she leaned closer to the door. The piteous voice of the house elf replied,

"Dobby is sorry, master. Dobby could be calling friends to come help, Master Snape or Master-"

"_No_," he hissed emphatically. "If the ministry shows up at any of their residences, we can't be seen summoning them... you stupid creature, you know there's to be no contact for forty eight hours. Just... go get some water and towels and dittany. Clean up the blood on the floor-"

Narcissa's stomach flipped.

"-and I'll figure something out."

_Walk away,_ a reasonable voice commanded Narcissa in her head. She knocked on the door, and the shuffling within fell silent.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she called innocently. "You weren't at breakfast, I was worried. Are you ill?"

The silence within continued. Narcissa rolled her eyes- was he really pretending not to be in? How absurd. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Lucius spoke first.

"You may as well come in."

When Narcissa opened the doors, she gave an involuntary yelp of shock. Lucius sat at a small table, his back to the entrance of the room- his back, which was bloody and mauled.

"It looks worse than it is," he told her tiredly. "Come here, I need you to do something."

She approached hesitantly. When she drew up beside him, she gasped again. His right hand looked as though it had been smashed: every digit but his thumb was grotesquely discolored and swollen. He left arm, drawn close to his body, sat at a sickeningly strange angle.

"I need you to set the fingers on my right hand," he told her. "I can't hold a wand." She blinked at his blase tone, and the hideous hand he held out to her. "Pull them straight. Be careful but don't worry about it hurting me, just do it as quickly as you can without being sloppy. Do you know basic healing spells?"

She nodded mutely.

"Good. Just stay calm, set the fingers, heal them, and I can do most of the rest."

Narcissa found that her own hands were surprisingly steady as she gripped his index finger. She glanced at him for approval, and he nodded once. A sheen of perspiration had broken out across his pale forehead, and though he made no sound when she pulled, his whole body tensed in the chair.

"_Episkey,_" she pronounced quickly, pointing her wand at the finger. He bent the digit several times to confirm it was properly healed, then nodded to encourage her to move on to the next.

After she mended his hand to his satisfaction, she turned to look at his left arm.

"It's dislocated, but it's broken too," he explained. "I want to fix the dislocation first." He rose a carefully, and crossed the room to the massive bed centered at the far wall. He laid down on the edge, arm and should hanging unsupported. "Pull from the elbow so you're not pulling at the break. Get a good grip. Constant steady tension... take off your shoe and put your foot on my torso for leverage, I don't think you're strong enough otherwise." His tone was matter-of-fact, not insulting, and for once Narcissa did as she was told without any inclination to retort. "Pull down."

At first nothing happened, and Narcissa hesitated, wondering if she was doing something wrong.

"Keep going. You're going to have to pull harder than that." At last, the bone slipped back into the socket. The relief on Lucius's face was evident, and he sat up. "Almost there. Just this last break. We're going to do something similar as with my hand, but I'm going to pull and you're just going to make sure it sets correctly. Understand?"

She nodded again, and hovered her hands over the lump in his arm that she deduced must be bone trying to escape his flesh.

"Alright," he exhaled sharply, and gripped his left wrist with his now fully functional right hand. Sweat was gathered at his temples now, darkening his fair hair and causing tendrils to cling to his face. "On the count of three. One, two... three."

He pulled, hard, and despite his best attempts at stoicism, a groan was torn from between his gritted teeth. Narcissa saw the bone move, and quickly pressed down, pushing it to where it naturally wanted to be. Lucius lifted his own wand, and muttered '_episkey._' For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Well," Narcissa said at last, "there's your back, too. I can clean it up."

He gave her a long, measured stare, then nodded. He rose from the bed and returned to the chair he'd been in initially. By now, Dobby had returned with the instructed items and placed them on the table.

"Change the bedding," Lucius commanded the creature, since the blankets were now bloodied from the wound on his back.

Narcissa began to dab away blood and pick flecks of stone from the scrape.

"So," she said casually as she worked, "You're one of them, then? A Death Eater?"

There had really been no hiding it; she had just helped him set an arm with the recognizable skull and serpent tattooed on it, and she was no fool. Lucius nodded once.

"Is that how all this happened?"

He nodded again.

"This looks like you slid across pavement on your back... blasted, I assume?"

"Have your questions no end, Miss Black?"

"I'm only curious," she replied airily, reaching for the dittany. "You know, most people would have said 'thank you' by now."

"It matters very little if I thank you or not," he replied coolly. Narcissa quirked a brow, dabbing on the last of the healing potion.

"Oh, really? Why's that?"

"Because." Fully healed, Lucius stood abruptly and reached for his wand. Narcissa's was out in a flash, eyes blazing. He sighed. "I do not want a bedroom duel with you, Miss Black. Obviously I am exhausted, and I do appreciate your careful assistance. But surely you see why I must modify your memory. I'll only take you to right before breakfast. This time, I'll be there to greet you. And perhaps berate you for your tardiness," he added with a glimmer of amusement. "It is past seven, you know."

The uncharacteristically gentle tone of his voice did not cause her to relax her stance. "I don't want to forget," she replied tartly. "I swear I won't tell a soul, but I think it's important that I know, if I'm living here."

He sighed. "The less you know, the safer it will be for you. Suppose I'm captured; I can perform a memory charm so thorough that even Veritaserum won't draw this incident from your mind."

"I don't want to forget," she repeated stubbornly. At last, he gave in and pocketed his wand.

"Very well Miss Black, have it your way." However he was not quite finished. He crossed the space between them in three long steps, and leaned in close.

"But I will have you know," he growled, all hints of the previous gentle tone erased, "that if you utter a word of this to anyone, the consequences will be dire, and they will be swift. Do you understand?"

She nodded quickly, and he stepped back. "Good. Now leave. I need to dress; I'll be downstairs for breakfast presently."

As Narcissa stumbled, dazed, back into the corridor, her heart was pounding uncontrollably. But she suspected that it had more to do with his shirtless, sweat-slicked body so near to hers than the threats he had delivered.

When Lucius arrived in the dining room, he was dressed immaculately for work. Narcissa gave a small, startled laugh.

"Surely you're not going in today, after the night you've had?"

He shot her a scathing, condescending look as he reached for the_ Prophet._

"Of course I am. I wouldn't want to arouse suspicion and besides, there's much to be done today. If anyone asks why I'm late, though I doubt they will, I will simply cite the troubles of new fatherhood."

He began to read. From where she sat, Narcissa could read the headlines, and her eyes widened.

"Twenty three Muggles dead... that was you, wasn't it?"

Lucius eyes rose slowly from the paper to meet hers. They were like ice.

"Let me make something very clear to you, Miss Black," he stated slowly. "What happened this morning is not something that you will ever reference again. Furthermore, it changes nothing in our relationship as employer and employee, and you certainly should not feel entitled to address me casually. I also must insist that you never enter my chambers again. You were spying this morning, and I have no tolerance or use for sneaking little girls. Next time I fail to arrive promptly at breakfast, you will eat on your own and hold your tongue. Do I make myself quite clear?"

Hate boiled suddenly, unexpectedly, in her chest. He should be thanking her for her aid, _which he had solicited! _but instead he sat here, berating her like a child. _Calling _her a child, for that matter.

"Crystal," she replied though gritted teeth. The rest of the meal passed in silence. However, when he finished eating and rose, he paused before exiting.

"Does it not frighten you?"

Despite her rage, she met his eye and answered him frankly, "No. Someone has to do it."

He nodded curtly, and strode from the room.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'll need to take off next Friday, it's my sister's wedding."

Lucius nodded, not looking up from the evening paper. "It will be quite the spectacle, I'm sure."

"You're coming too, then?"

"I am," he affirmed, still without looking away from the paper. "I've known Rodolphus for quite some time." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "he's a menace."

Narcissa glanced up with surprise, ceasing the soothing cooing sounds she had been making to please Draco. Lucius noticed the silence, and glanced over, arching an eyebrow.

"I suppose now I'll be treated to a delightful lecture on why I shouldn't insult your future in-laws?" he asked irritably. She shook her head.

"Not at all! I think Rodolphus is dreadful. It's just... I think this is the first time we've agreed on something."

He stared at her inscrutably for a moment longer, before a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well, don't get used to it, Miss Black," he drawled, and resumed reading.

* * *

"Oh, Bella, you look beautiful!" Narcissa exclaimed. She had arrived late; Draco had been fussing this morning, so she had stayed at the Manor to be sure he had eaten and then gone down for a nap, despite Hannah's assurances that her presence was unnecessary. She had missed all the preparations she otherwise might have assisted in. Consequently, by the time Narcissa showed up, Bellatrix was already costumed as a resplendent bride.

Bellatrix turned, and shot her sister a scathing look. "Shut up, Cissy."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Yes, Merlin forbid I compliment you for running a comb through your hair! Or, more likely, I suppose mother did?"

"Girls, enough," Druella sighed. "You're late, Narcissa."

"Yes, tragically I missed the hissing and spitting when you got her into those robes. I'm surprised she didn't tear them with her claws."

Bellatrix glared, but for once let it go. She turned to stare mournfully at her reflection. The traditional robes were always white and high collared with long bell sleeves. Personally Narcissa hated them. For her own wedding, she would wear a stylish gown, no matter how her mother protested. The look wasn't terrible for Bellatrix though, she decided. Her sister was tall enough that the sleeves didn't swallow her, and her long neck was flattered by the collar.

"I need to check on the carriages for the reception," Druella announced as she carefully tucked a camellia into Bellatrix's chignon. "You two behave."

The moment she left the room, Bella snatched the flower from her hair and began shredding it. "I hate this," she growled. "I hate the flower and the robes and these awful shoes."

"And the groom?" Narcissa prompted, picking up a crystal bottle of perfume and squeezing the atomizer. "I suppose you hate him too?"

Bellatrix shrugged, and reached for her veil. "Could be worse. I just wish I didn't have to marry anyone."

"So don't," Narcissa suggested as she continued to rifle aimlessly through the delicacies on the vanity. "Mother and Father would disown you, but it's not as if they have much to take away at this point."

"Not funny, Narcissa," she spat. "That... she's not... what _she _did, and what our parents had to do, it isn't some joke!"

"Do you need any help?" Narcissa offered as Bellatrix fought to pin her veil in place. "Push your sleeves back, they're getting in the way," she recommended, reaching out offer her aid.

"Don't!" Bellatrix cried, but it was too late. Narcissa had brushed the wide, sweeping sleeve back for only a moment, but she had caught a glimpse of the hideous black serpent tattooed there. She stepped back, startled.

"I didn't know you were one too," she blurted unthinkingly. Bellatrix's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean, 'too'? Who else do you know?"

"Er... no one. I just meant... how long, Bella?"

Her sister gave an exasperated sigh. "A while. Since shortly after I finished school."

"Does Rodolphus know?"

"Of course. He's one too."

"Who else-"

"_That_ is quite enough questions from you Cissy. Do I need to modify your memory? You don't seem to bothered..."

"Of course you don't!" she huffed. "I can keep a secret. Why to no one think I can keep a secret?"

"Because you're a gossip and a brat," Bellatrix replied bluntly. "Besides, you probably find out again at some point, I don't really want to permanently damage your memory by constantly modifying it, you're already enough of an airhead."

Narcissa scowled. "I am not!"

"Yes you are. You and that boy Mother picked out for you, you're just a couple of silly children. You'll be perfect together. He'll buy you pretty dresses and jewels and you'll give him little babies and won't it be precious?" she sneered. "It's all you're cut out for."

"First of all, Gareth is not a child, he's nineteen years old. And I'll be eighteen in a couple of weeks! We're both adults. And just because we both appreciate nice things doesn't mean you should laugh. And of course we'll want children. Doesn't everyone? Don't you?"

"No," she replied without hesitation. "Not a bit. And hasn't tending Malfoy's poor little orphan convinced you you're not ready to be a mother?"

"Absolutely not. I adore Draco. I practically already am a mother!"

"Right," Bellatrix returned sarcastically, then muttered under her breath, "In the worst ways."

"What do you mean?" Narcissa demanded suspiciously.

"All the problems of being a wife, none of the benefits. Unless you're fucking Malfoy and haven't told me about it?"

Narcissa's jaw dropped. "Bella, you can't _say _things like that! Of course I'm not! First of all, he is my employer, we have a professional relationship. Secondly, he's old, he's no fun, and we have nothing in common."

"He's, what, thirty? That's not so old considering Father almost had to marry you off to some sixty year old Spanish warlock."

"Twenty nine," she corrected. "Which is old. But even if it's not, he _acts _old."

"No, I think you just act immature."

"I despise you. I hope you trip on your robes during the ceremony."

"So if not Malfoy, what about that boy your own age? The Fawley heir."

"What about Gareth?"

"Surely you know Mother and Father expect you to marry him."

"Obviously I know that."

"Well, so you haven't slept with Malfoy, what about him?"

"_No,_ Bella!"

"Have you even kissed him?"

"Yes," she flushed. "I have." Then she paused. "But only... small kisses. I think he's very proper, or wants to be traditional. Not that I mind," she added quickly. "But... I do wish he'd at least... you know. Try a bit more. I suppose he just wants to respect me."

"Or he's getting off somewhere else," Bellatrix added helpfully. Narcissa glared.

"I'm sure that has nothing to do with it. Now if you don't mind, he's to be here today, and I think I'll go find him now."

* * *

Gareth was not difficult to locate. He was at the foot of the stairs chatting amiably with Regulus when she came down. She kissed her cousin lightly on the cheek, and then turned to Gareth, beaming.

"I've missed you," she confessed as soon as Regulus stalked off.

"As I've missed you, my dear. The ceremony is beginning shortly... shall I escort you to your seat with the rest of your family?" He gallantly offered his arm, and she accepted it happily.

The ceremony passed without any issue. Bellatrix did not trip, as Narcissa hoped she would. Rather than listen to the recitations or vows, Narcissa let her mind wander. She briefly evaluated her now brother-in-law. He was at least six and a half feet tall, Narcissa decided as she compared him to Bella's five foot, eleven inch frame. And he was too muscular for Narcissa's tastes. She preferred men who were more lithe, like Lucius or Gareth... _Just men like Gareth,_ she quickly edited the thought. After the Bonds had been spoken, they proceeded out to the rows of carriages waiting on the front, which carried them, airborne, to the Lestrange estate. Bellatrix and Rodolphus has their own private vehicle, but the rest were large enough for several families, and she was delighted when the Fawleys entered the one that she was already seated in with her parents, Regulus, aunt and uncle. Gareth winked when their eyes met. _  
_

The reception was, in Narcissa's opinion, far more fun than the actual wedding. She ate at a large table with the Lestrange family and was seated by Rabastan, who turned out to be far more pleasant a companion than she had anticipated. She even spotted Bellatrix smiling once or twice, after her sister had had more than a few glasses of champagne. However, she made it through her first dance with Rodolphus gracefully, and didn't even run off after the music ended, but stayed with her new husband through several more songs.

Gareth came to claim Narcissa after the plates were cleared. She was eager to dance with him, and knew that everyone would be watching them, and commenting on what a wonderful couple they made.

"You are ravishing as always, my dear," he told her lightly, spinning her so her robes billowed around her.

"Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself."

"You positively outshone the bride."

"Not hard to, in those robes, though they do suit her better than some."

Gareth laughed. "And do you intend to were something different for your wedding?"

"Oh, absolutely. And I'll find the most delightful shoes... and I think I want a different dress for the reception... something better to dance in." She grinned up at him.

"Sounds perfect, pet. How's everything going with little Draco?"

"Oh, so nicely! He's a delightful little baby. And so clever! Just two and a half months, and he smiles all the time, he's always so happy to see me. I actually... I quite miss him."

Gareth beamed at her. "You're going to be an excellent mother, Narcissa."

She returned his smile. "I hope so."

"And Draco's father... how's everything going with him?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Still dull, as ever." She glanced around to see if Lucius was within earshot. She spotted him as a table, alone, drinking and watching the festivities with an air of extreme disinterest.

"He looks dreadfully unhappy," Gareth commented, as he sent her into a gentle dip. Narcissa sighed, watching at Lucius flicked at an imaginary speck of dust from his cuff.

"He's just a bore. Everything would be so much nicer if he were just a bit more friendly."

"Well, his wife died only a few months ago," he replied generously. Narcissa frowned.

"So she did. Somehow I always seem to forget that... he never talks about her. It's like she never existed. It's like Draco just appeared in his life one day as this mild inconvenience and he hired me to take care of the issue. It's hard to picture him with a wife."

"Why don't you ask him to dance?"

Narcissa burst into laughter at the notion, but saw, when her giggles abated, that the suggestion was a serious one.

"Oh, I can't do that. He'd just scoff and say something rude, like he always does."

"Perhaps he's just lonely."

"And what will you be up to while I'm dancing the night away with Mr. Malfoy?" she teased. Gareth shrugged, dipping her. His eyes roved over the party, and finally settled on Regulus, who was sitting alone several tables away from Lucius. Narcissa had noticed him glowering at them earlier, but couldn't for the life of her imagine what was wrong with him.

"I'll go talk with your cousin for a bit."

Content that he would not be wooing other girls if she did chat briefly with Lucius, she nodded in agreement and they walked off the dance floor together.

"Do try to cheer him up if you can," Narcissa encouraged. Gareth chuckled and pecked her cheek.

"Same to you, darling."

Narcissa headed towards Lucius with some trepidation. Most people would relish her company rather than sit alone and watch all the merriment of a wedding, but he certainly wasn't most people.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy." She sat beside him, and he eyed her with suspicion.

"Miss Black."

"Er... lovely ceremony, wasn't it?"

He gave a non-committal jerk of his head, and waved over a server, who quickly brought him over a new tumbler of bourbon and took the empty glass away.

"I do hope Bella is content with him. They do make a nice pair, I suppose; they're both very tall. She didn't really want to get married at all, but, you know... say, do you think Draco is alright?"

"Have you any reason to suspect he might not be?" he asked dryly, taking a long sip of the amber liquid.

"Well, no, but I suppose he probably misses me. Hannah is a wonderful nurse but when he's up an crying at night, I'm the only one he really wants," she told him, unable to keep the pride from her voice. "You know... I haven't much experience with babies, but I think he's just remarkable."

"Indeed." He was now staring at his glass as though he wished it were instead the entire bottle.

"What was your wedding like?" The question could not have been a worse one. His guarded but neutral expression suddenly became obsidian.

"Did you come over here for any reason, Miss Black, or just to irritate me?"

Her eyes immediately sought Gareth, as though she could telepathically tell him how right she'd been about this being a silly idea. However, he seemed to have wandered off.

"Do you dance, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Not when I can help it," he replied shortly.

"Well, it's a wedding," Narcissa retorted, rising to her feet. "You haven't any choice in the matter." She was annoyed that her dancing partner had left her, and was loathe to be sitting alone at the table as though she were some miserable old widower like Lucius Malfoy. "Dance with me."

For a long moment she thought he would refuse. Surely his eyes told her she was mad... but after an agonizing pause, he finished his drink and rose.

"On the condition that this will put an end to your meddling," he stipulated as they walked towards the floor. Narcissa laughed.

"Of course it won't. Unless you manage to take my breath away," she flirted. He frowned at her reprovingly and refused to engage in banter, but Narcissa had no intention to stop- that is, until he pulled her into his arms and the music began. Suddenly, everything else left Narcissa's mind- the thought of teasing him, or asking leading questions about his thousands of secrets, about anything besides the fact that they'd never stood this close before. His hand on her waist was light, proper, but somehow it felt as though she'd never been touched more intimately in her life. Lucius moved with an easy grace she wouldn't have expected from someone so stiff, so unyielding... she wanted to melt closer to him, feel his body against hers. However, she sensed this breach of propriety would not be one he condoned, so she focused instead on remembering the steps to the dance. Usually they came so effortlessly, but she was distracted but everything about his nearness. His hands were not soft, as she might have expected, had she thought- or dreamt- about such things. But they were large, strong, and cool in her own, dwarfing her own slim fingers. Her other hand moved over the fine fabric of his dress robes, with just enough pressure to feel the firmness of his shoulder... she wanted to touch everywhere, his chest, his abdomen... would that steely exterior prove to have fissures if she did? No... certainly he would just scold her for impropriety. But somehow, the idea didn't seem improper to her, it seemed irresistible. Her eyes slid shut and she inhaled deeply, she wanted to be alone with him, wished everyone else in the ballroom would vanish, leaving them there with his hand on her waist, the music playing, and nothing else.

"You're unusually quiet, Miss Black," he murmured, and she couldn't find it in herself to reply, she only wanted to hear the low purr of his voice... she wished he would say something romantic, or at least say her name...

"Narcissa?"

Her eyes opened, the sound of Gareth's summons shattering the spell. The song had ended and she stepped back in quick disorientation. She felt suddenly cold as she moved away from Lucius, but forced a smile and dared not look back as she accepted Gareth's extended hand.

"I see Malfoy accepted your invitation," he noted with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Who could resist dancing with you?"

She smiled unsteadily, still feeling confused. Gareth was leading her out back to the gardens.

"Well, things weren't going well, but I noticed you'd vanished... where did you go?"

He grinned mysteriously. "Let some things stay a secret, darling. For now, at least. Did you have a nice time with Malfoy?"

She shrugged as he led her towards the darkened hedge labyrinth. "You know. He doesn't talk much."

"Indeed. Well... at least you won't have to be around him forever. It's only a job."

"True. But Draco is just a darling... A sweet boy. I hope he stays that way... Lucius seems to have so little interest in him."

"I'm sure it must be hard... losing your wife and having an infant son... in some ways a comfort, but in others a constant reminder."

Narcissa mulled this over for a bit as they wandered. Was that the reason he was so hesitant to spend time with Draco? Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions when she assumed he was just disinterested... But he never showed any emotion, aside from perhaps irritation, when she tried to find out anything about his deceased wife.

"Have you spoken with your sister?" Gareth continued. "Is she pleased to be wed?"

"She's Bella... nothing ever pleases her."

"Would you be more pleased, if it were you?"

Narcissa laughed. "Married to Rodolphus? No. Certainly not."

Gareth stopped, and turned to face her as he took both her hands in his. "And if it were to someone else?"

Narcissa's heart began to thud uncomfortably, and the smile slipped from her face. "What?"

Gareth chuckled, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm once more. "Come along. We're almost there."

She looked up and realized she had no idea where they were- they'd been walking for some minutes now, the hedges were high, and it was dark. But she followed him around the edge of more shrubbery, and he drew to a halt. Dimly, she could make out the shape of the grand manor house, but all the lights seemed to be extinguished. Gareth had led her in a circuitous route back to where they'd begun.

"Any second..." he murmured.

Suddenly, the sky was ablaze with fireworks. The bright, colorful flashes illuminated the scene below. The entirely of the party had gathered on the patio to watch the display, and were exclaiming with delight. Narcissa felt exposed before them all: she and Gareth stood several yards before everyone else, on the lawn, at the mouth of the maze. She scanned the faces of those watching the fireworks. Most were watching them with awe, but she picked out her mother, who was beaming at her, and Regulus who, for some reason, was glowering... the boy was getting unbearably moody these days.

"Narcissa."

She turned her eyes back to Gareth, and gasped. She had suspected, or at least should have... but now that the moment was here, she was shocked and couldn't place why. He stood before her with a ring; beautiful, glittering beneath the spectacle.

"I know we haven't known one another for very long. But why wait? I know it's what our families want, but it's what I want too... I want to be with you, Narcissa. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"

"I... yes, of course."

But as he slid the ring on her finger, and the assembly burst into cheers and applause, her gaze at last fell to Lucius, who was not applauding, or even smiling, just watching her with those cold, inscrutable eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

"Narcissa?"

"Regulus, darling!" she chirped, rising to peck her cousin's cheek. He surprised her by pulling her close in an embrace.

"Careful, the baby!" she exclaimed, nodding to Draco, who was nestled happily in her arms. She sat back down, gesturing for his to take the patio seat beside her. "You don't look well, dear," she frowned at him, reaching out to take his hand. He gripped hers tightly.

"I've been... under a bit of stress lately," he confessed. "Nothing you should worry about."

"What stress? Your last year at school not going well?"

"It's been fine," he muttered. "Mother is still trying to get me to marry that horrible Selwyn girl in my year, but I won't sign a thing..."

"You should marry for love," she told him fervently. He didn't immediately respond. He gazed instead at her hand, which he still held, perhaps admiring the ring there.

"Wouldn't that be nice," he murmured absently, then lifted her hand to press a gentle kiss to it. She smiled warmly.

"So what was it you needed to come tell me? I've been wanting to visit you for Hogsmeade's weekends, but you're always busy!"

"Yes, quite unfortunate."

She gave him a sly look. "Reg, you're not dating a girl, are you? Is that why you don't want me to come see you?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, Cissy. If I were you'd be the first to know."

"Oh, well, you'll find someone soon."

He nodded, brushing his thumb over the diamond she was wearing. "I suppose so."

"Your owl said you really wanted to talk to me," she prompted.

"Er, right. That." He released her hand. "I-"

Draco began to fuss, and Narcissa looked down with a frown. "Oh, he's hungry again. Hannah," she called. "Bring a bottle, won't you? He's just been eating so much lately. I suppose because he's growing so fast. Anyway, sorry, continue."

"So you've decided to stay on with Malfoy even though you're engaged, then?"

"Yes. No telling how long the engagement might last, we haven't chosen a date yet, and with my income there's no need to rush the wedding, like they did for Bella. Besides, Gareth and I haven't known each other long, there's nothing wrong with taking our time."

"What did Malfoy have to say about the subject?"

"Oh, not much, as usual, just asked if he should start looking for a replacement. Didn't even congratulate me, now that I think of it, but that would have been kind so obviously he didn't. Did you come just to ask about Malfoy?"

"Not... er, not exactly. Cissy... I don't think you should marry Gareth."

She blinked at him, nonplussed. "Why ever would you say that?"

"I just... it's just a feeling I get from him. Like you two aren't a great match."

"We're perfect." She shook her head at his absurdity, and continued coolly, "Really, Regulus. And don't say that again. You know, you really should be finding a girlfriend, if other people's happiness makes you jealous."

"It isn't jealousy, Narcissa!" he returned quickly. "I'm only thinking of you." His voice was fervently earnest, and he grasped her hand. "I think if you marry him... you'll see it was a mistake. There's someone out there for you, but it isn't Gareth."

"Enough." Narcissa tugged her hand away and rose with a scowl. "I won't listen to you talk that way about my future husband. We've always been so close, Regulus, but ever since I've started dating Gareth, you've been awful! And I just really can't believe you're doing this."

He rose as well. "Believe me, Narcissa, if we weren't so close, I wouldn't be."

For a long moment they glared at the other, each unwilling to back down. it was Regulus who relented first, his shoulders sagging and gaze dropping.

"Whatever makes you happy," he muttered, sinking into his seat again. "Listen," he began in the tone of someone desperate to change the subject, "there's something else I need to talk to you about. I heard... I mean, maybe it's just a rumour, but it's a sick rumour... I think it's something you should know."

* * *

Narcissa rushed to see her sister immediately after Regulus had left. She brushed past the Lestrange elf that greeted her at the door, calling loudly for her sister; not something that she would do normally, but she supposed the manor house heard its fair share of screaming. Bella yelled back irritably, and Narcissa tracked her voice to a grim study draped in crimson and black. The room gave her chills, but Bella looked perfectly at ease on a large armchair, reading a thick, ancient-looking tome, probably about curses.

"I know you're busy," Narcissa began in a rush as sat down beside Bellatrix, who hardly glanced up. "I just had to talk to you."

"I'm not that busy," Bellatrix conceded, placing the book down reluctantly. "Why did you bring Malfoy's kid?" She eyed Draco with great distaste, and Narcissa felt a twisting in her gut.

"Well, that's sort of what I wanted to talk about. Regulus came to visit me today... well, first he tried to warn be off marrying Gareth-"

"Yes, because he's in love with you. Go on."

Narcissa stopped, momentarily thrown. "Because Gareth's in love with me?"

"No, stupid twit, because Regulus is. Has been for years, can't you tell? Anyway, go on, what's so important?"

Narcissa waved Bellatrix's absurd assumption aside and pressed on. "Well, then he told me the most dreadful rumour. Apparently Rabastan, your dear brother-in-law, heard that Cecelia, Draco's mother, you know... well, he said she may not have died so innocently as in childbirth."

"Is that so?" Bellatrix sounded bored, but Narcissa continued anyway.

"He thinks Lucius killed her."

"Oh?" A spark of curiosity, at last. "You know Lucius a trained killer, I suppose?"

"Well... I know he's a Death Eater along with you and Rodolphus and the lot, if that's what you mean."

"Then you recognize that sometimes killing is unavoidable." Her eyes gleamed. "And sometimes it's just fun."

Narcissa felt cold at her sister's words, but continued. "The thing is, now I can't help but to worry."

"About?"

"I don't know," Narcissa breathed, cradling Draco closer and stroking his silken hair nervously. "Bella... fighting for blood purity is one thing. I know that. But to say... that he might have killed Cecelia. His own wife. Not because she was a blood traitor, but out of hatred... they were married almost ten years, it took her so long to get pregnant... rumour has it they grew apart and he began to resent her, that things didn't get better even after she got pregnant, that Draco was born and then he had no more use for her..."

"Ridiculous," Bellatrix scoffed, though the was a slight shimmer of doubt in her eyes now. "Besides, even if it were true... you aren't in danger there, Cissy. He's not so irrational that he'd kill you before firing you; a death in the family is one thing, those are covered up all the time, every family of any merit had to hide a few skeletons to get where they are now, but he wouldn't lay a finger on you."

"I'm not worried about me," Narcissa confessed softly. For a moment Bellatrix stared in confusion, until her eyes fell onto Draco.

"The baby?" she asked incredulously. "His heir? There's no way, Narcissa."

"Any man that could kill his own wife is clearly disturbed. Deeply," Narcissa replied in an undertone.

"You're jumping to conclusions."

* * *

"Miss Black?"

Narcissa glanced down at her elf, startled. The creature generally did not disturb her unless she summoned it, and it was late; past eleven. She had been planning on going to bed soon.

"Yes?"

"The master is commanding your presence in his study. He is asking you come without delay."

Narcissa nodded once, and reached for her dressing gown. "Tell him I'll be there posthaste."

She knew she really should get properly dressed, but she had just finished preparing to sleep, and forwent even arranging her hair as she slipped from the room. Surely he could not demand an audience with her at this hour and expect that she be perfectly coiffed.

However, when she arrived at his study, her heart sank. He had left the door ajar as to permit her access, but was waiting in behind his desk in his attire from work. He looked terribly foreboding, and Narcissa loitered in the doorway feeling like a student about to be reprimanded. He arched one eyebrow at her, and gestured to one of the seats before his desk.

_Precisely like a scolded student, then_. Narcissa took the seat and waited.

"Miss Black," he began solemnly. Narcissa swallowed- his cold tone and use of formality clearly suggested he was displeased with her.

"Yes?"

"When I offered you employment here, there were certain matters that I assumed were implicit in our arrangement that clearly you failed to see and consequently failed to abide by."

"I beg you pardon?"

He stared icily down at her. "Discussing private matters regarding this household is a gross breach of both contract and common courtesy, Miss Black. This is especially true when you are spreading slanderous rumours that have no basis in fact whatsoever."

Narcissa gave a tiny gasp of shock. "How did you-"

"It matters not how I know, only that it never happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

_He's furious,_ Narcissa realized suddenly, and her pulse began to accelerate. He was as adept at disguising this emotion as all others, but she saw that the knuckles of his neatly folded hands were white, and there was a peculiar tightness in his jaw. Suddenly, Narcissa was filled with a rush of desire to see him crack; hear him raise his voice, see that he was in fact human, rather than a soulless, unfeeling monster... One that could kill his own wife.

"Were you having me followed?" she demanded coolly. His eyebrows shot upwards, but he gave no other indication of surprise at her defiant words.

"It is of no import how I found out what you said," he repeated coldly. "Furthermore, you were in the presence of my son when you-"

"He's only a baby, for Merlin's sake!"

Lucius stared at her for a long moment, before continuing slowly, "Nevertheless, if you cannot control your behavior now, there is no telling the influence it will have on my heir as he grows. You were hired to instill proper lessons of etiquette-"

"I was hired to be his mother, whether you'll admit to that or not, and it's lucky that I was, because children need to be loved-"

"Enough," Lucius snarled, eyes blazing. "If you cannot curb your behavior, you will be let go immediately."

"Tell me, Lucius," Narcissa let his given name slide naturally from her lips, surprising even herself with the ease that it came forth. She leaned forward across the desk, hands sliding over the polished mahogany surface. He did not retreat, and she met his eye levelly, staring into those grey eyes that had become so familiar, yet still held so many enigmas. "Is it true?"

"Of course not."

There. There is was. A tiny trace of hoarseness when he replied. He was telling her the truth, and it hurt him that she might think otherwise. His gaze remained unblinking. Narcissa let the words sink in, but she did not sit back.

"She died due to complications from childbirth?"

A pause. A twitch in the jaw. "Yes." A lie.

"If you didn't kill her... who did?"

"I told you," he growled, "Cecelia's death was unfortunate and due to unpreventable complications. She was not murdered."

"Who would have been so cruel as to take a new mother from her baby? Could you have stopped whoever did it, do you think?"

"Miss Black," he rose abruptly. "That is quite enough. This is your only warning."

"But I just want to know-"

"You have no reason to know. It is not a matter that concerns you," he cut in brusquely, turning on his heel and staring out the large picture window situated behind the desk. His arms were folded and his back was to her, quite clearly a dismissal, but Narcissa decide to press her luck just a bit more. She slipped around the large desk and stood at his shoulder. When she spoke, her words were soft.

"She was very beautiful, wasn't she? I met her a few times, and I saw pictures. I suppose you must miss her." This last was a wild conjecture, for Narcissa had never seen this stoic man give any indication that he ever thought of his deceased wife at all.

"Beauty can be deceiving. It can hide much deeper flaws... or disguise a tremendously interfering child masquerading as a young woman of good standing."

He gave her a pointed look at this, though there was no real malice in his words. Narcissa's eyes widened.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

He seemed to realized the omission a moment too late, and rather than respond, he turned his attention once more to the darkened landscape beyond with a soft, exasperated exhalation. Narcissa felt an unanticipated tremor of excitement shiver through her, and she moved slightly closer. She wanted to touch him, badly, but felt that the consequences would be dire. "Lucius-"

"I never gave you permission to use my name," he reminded her darkly.

"May I?"

"No."

"Lucius..."

"Stop." His eyes slid shut, and he exhaled sharply. "And you should have dressed when I called for you," he added.

Narcissa looked down at her robe, which by now was gaping open in the front. "But I live here too," she reminded him needlessly. "And it's quite late. Surely you imagined that I would be-"

"I imagined nothing," he interrupted. Narcissa gave a startled laugh, misconstruing his words.

"I didn't mean imagined like _that_," she giggled, even as he glared at her.

"Like _what, _pray tell?"

"Er... nothing." She bit back a grin.

"Don't do that either."

"Do what?"

"That... laugh."

"Of for goodness sake. Now I'm not allowed to laugh?" Narcissa demanded. "Why, if you aren't the most miserable, grouchy-"

"Cecelia killed herself."

Narcissa felt as though she'd been doused with icy water. Any trace of a smile immediately vanished as abruptly as though she'd been slapped. Her lips were too numb to form a question, but he saved her the trouble.

"She was a blood purist, but she wasn't prepared for what that entailed. She couldn't tolerate my involvement with the Dark Lord and we became estranged. We met in school and married almost immediately after, and she tried to reconcile herself for a year or two... and after that, we lived as strangers sharing a room. She became depressed. Then she became despondent. Then she tried to kill herself, and I found her and took her to St. Mungo's. I made her swear that she would never try such a thing again. Eventually she got pregnant, I thought it would help things... but I'd go out at night, and of course she'd know where I had been... As the months of her pregnancy progressed, she grew quieter and quieter, but I would walk into rooms and catch her crying, I would feel her silently sobbing in the bed next to me, and I said nothing, did nothing..."

He fell silent, but Narcissa knew better than to interrupt. His thumb scratched absently at the window sill, and his breath misted the glass.

"Draco's birth was an easy one. He came in the early hours of the morning, just past midnight. The midwife had left by twilight. Draco slept in a cradle by her side of the bed, soundly for a newborn."

There was something flat about his voice, as if this series of events were one that had been long repeated, at least in his own head, searched over for flaws, for signs, for alternate responses.

"I was asleep when he started screaming. Not the normal cries of an infant... somehow, even having no experience at all with children, I knew that... Cecelia was already leaning over to check him, and she told me something was terribly wrong, that he needed to go to St. Mungo's... that she was too sore to go herself... I should have known something was wrong," Lucius broke his own flow of words harshly, bitterly. "She was a heavy sleeper- I would've reacted first if she hadn't been awake already. And I don't think she would have left his side if she had truly believed something was wrong..."

He took a deep breath. His eyes were glazed over, remembering every detail of that night. There was a thunderstorm, and he vividly recalled her appearance as she leaned over the cradle. Her hair floating in loose strands around her face. The deep purple beneath her eyes, and the eerie contrast of shadows on her face when the lightning illuminated the room. She had been stroking Draco's forehead, whispering soft words of love to sooth him, but she remained calm and still despite his shrieks.

_"Something is wrong, Lucius." Her voice was cool and distant._

_"Yes, I can bloody well see that!" he'd gasped, stumbling in the dark to reach her side. His heart was hammering with the fear of a new father, certain that this tiny creature was too fragile to exist in the world. "For fuck's sake Cecelia, don't just stand there... what do we do?"_

_"Oh, I wouldn't know," she breathed softly, slowly. "Take him to St. Mungo's." It was a command, not a suggestion. His gut clenched._

_"Is it so serious? Is he hurt in some way? Did he hit his head?"_

_"They'll be able to tell you there, I'm sure." She didn't bother to raise her voice to be heard over Draco's screams. _

_"Right. Dobby!" he barked. "Bring our cloaks. Hurry!" He sent the elf away with a kick to ensure his speedy response._

_"Oh, no. Not mine. I can't possibly come along." There was something awry about her tone, but he was too panicked to discern what it might be. He watched incredulously as she slid back into bed. "I just had a child, Lucius. I can hardly stand."_

_"Er... yes, of course," he agreed distractedly, uncertain of how to cradle the minuscule body properly. _

_"Here," she sighed, quickly wrapping Draco into a neat bundle. Lucius gratefully reached out to accept him, but Cecelia hesitated, her eyes locked on his angry, bawling face. "My beautiful boy," she breathed. "Goodbye, baby. Be well. I love you." Tenderly, she pressed her lips to his forehead, and when she drew back, Lucius, despite his impatient anxiety, saw there were glimmering tears in her eyes._

_"Cecelia, don't worry. He'll be alright."_

_"I know," she replied quietly, eyes not leaving her son as she handed him to his father. "Goodbye, Lucius." She did not look at him as she spoke, still fixated on Draco, so he afforded her no more than a curt nod as he rushed out of the room._

"When we got there... they said somebody had hexed him. A simple, harmless hex, easily reversible with no lasting damage... and then I knew, but I didn't want to believe..."

_Lucius's mouth was dry and heart hammered in his throat as he sprinted through the halls of the Manor. He'd been gone only thirty minutes, if she'd taken potions there was still time, and he did not believe she possessed the magical ability to sufficiently cast the Killing Curse upon herself... few did, since it required immense concentration and steady thought, and those in a suicidal panic scarcely ever managed it._

_ When he burst into their bedroom, she was not in bed, but her wand lay on the bedside table. A split second of relief... his eyes moved to where the bathroom door stood ajar, light shining from within._

_"Cecelia?__" There was no response. Before, where his haste had been unprecedented, he found that now movement was difficult. Each step towards the cracked door seemed to take an hour, every muscle strained against the action of setting one foot before the other._

_"Draco's fine, good news, isn't it?" His voice was too loud, too unnatural, especially in the echoing silence that met each query. Still, he moved inexorably towards the door._

_"As it turns out... it was a hex. There- there are a few known cases where newborns are overcome by magic and... and usually it's just harmless sparks, but they said they supposed it was possible he could have caused the hex himself... lots of magic in him, right, Ce? He... he'll be a fine wizard, don't you suppose?"_

_He stood outside the room now, trying to reach for the brass knob which gleamed at him in a way that felt sinister. He swallowed, feeling the cool, unforgiving metal._

_"Everything alright in there, Cecelia?"_

_The silence ticked by. He felt as though he were underwater. His movements were slow, clumsy, and he couldn't seem to draw a breath. _

_"Cecelia," he whispered, eyes sliding shut on their own accord as he pulled the door open, achingly..._

"I've killed men before, Narcissa." There was no guilt or shame in his tone. "I've cursed them countless times but on more than a few occasions, their deaths have been far more physical. There's a lot of blood in a grown man. You expect it. But somehow... somehow, when the body is only five feet and three inches tall... when it's only a hundred pounds... you don't expect there to be so much blood in it. But there is. Enough to make the tile of a bathroom floor gleam red and slick. You could see precisely what had happened... she cut her wrists, standing over the sink."

"Lucius," Narcissa spoke for the first time, feeling sick. "You don't have to-"

"She must have fallen," he went on, as though he had not heard her. "And used the edge of the vanity to pull herself back up. There were these little gory hand prints where she did. And then she walked over to the noose-"

"Stop, please, I don't want to-"

"-which she must have hung beforehand. Very thorough, my Cecelia was," he spat. "If I had figured out her plan faster, she couldn't afford to wait to bleed out. So there she was, hanging in her nightgown, all stained red, her face purple and eyes wide open... she wanted death badly, wanted to find peace in it... but no one looks peaceful like that. That accusing stare, empty, but mocking me... she always did get whatever she wanted, and what she wanted in her death was to tell me that she hated me, that it was my fault and no one else's... I suppose I lied to you earlier, when you asked if I killed her. But if I'd played a more direct role in it, I at least would have made it tidy and painless."

"You... you mustn't blame yourself," Narcissa offered lamely. He glanced at her, quirking one eyebrow.

"But haven't you been listening? If I had been the husband she thought she was marrying, she would be as happy as could be, probably upstairs right now singing Draco to sleep. I might've been more honest with her, I suppose, though there wasn't much to tell before our wedding. I didn't kill a man until after we were married, and she knew of my involvement prior to that. Supported it, even." He shrugged. "A suicide is very messy for publicity. People start asking a lot of sticky questions. A death by childbirth is the only decent way for a young woman to go." Turning to stare at her sternly, he added, "and it is the only story that my son must ever know."


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm returning to the continent next week. I've quite overstayed my welcome here."

"What on earth are you talking about? You live on your own estate here, whose welcome have you infringed upon?"

Lucille sighed. "Oh, darling. You know what I mean. There's nothing for me in England. The estate I live upon is the one I shared with Robert. You, of course, could never be parted from your ancestral home, despite the memories here, but Lionsmare was _his_ home. I find myself much more at peace in my lovely flat in Paris."

"Then stay elsewhere. You needn't flee the country," he argued.

"Why not? Shopping in Paris is much better anyway," she jested, sipping her tea. "I haven't anything to keep me here," she added soberly.

"I don't want you to go. I'd quite forgotten how much I enjoy having you around, and now that you've reminded me, I'm loath to let you disappear to France- or worse, you might decide to travel the Orient again," he drawled stubbornly. Lucille rolled her eyes.

"No one calls it the Orient anymore, you're horribly outdated. Where would I stay, if not Lionsmare? Merlin knows I shan't move back in with Mother."

"Stay at the Manor," he offered with a nonchalant shrug. She laughed.

"Darling, two unwed women under your roof... Miss Black is enough scandal."

"She's engaged."

"Still, you know how people talk, and besides, engagements don't always last. People will think you're keeping a harem if I move in too."

"So marry me."

Lucille paused in the midst of raising her delicate porcelain teacup, eyebrows arching. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, why not? We're old enough and mature enough to settle into a bit of comfort, are we not? And I am fond of you."

"But you don't love me, and though my affection for you knows no bounds, I can't say I'm in love with you either."

"You've had your great love, and he's long gone. I suppose I've had mine too. Why wallow? We could marry, combine estates- you can't deny it would be an excellent political and economic match- and perhaps you could have children. We're not _so _old that that's out of the realm of possibility, and I know you and Robert were never so fortunate as to have any. If you have a son, you could, of course, name him your heir, I won't insist that Draco become master of your lands as well."

Lucille bit her lip, obviously tempted. Lucius knew that her miscarriage shortly after the untimely death of her husband was one of the greatest sorrows of her life, and he knew better than to address it directly. However, he guessed correctly in assuming she still longed for children.

"Would it really be so simple?" she asked at last.

"I think so. And excellent and logical match."

She smiled crookedly. "You certainly know how to charm a witch, don't you?"

"Oh, I haven't forgotten everything," he replied with a wink.

"Just one more thing." She rose from her chair and walked over to his, lean over, and kissed him firmly but briefly. When she rose, she seemed unfazed. "Yes, I suppose that will do. Very well, Mr. Malfoy. You have yourself a fiancee."

* * *

Narcissa noticed an increase in visits by Lucille in the weeks following Gareth's proposal but thought little of it. After all, she still very much enjoyed the quiet, calm presence of the woman in the Manor, and she showed a great amount of affection for Draco. Lately, she had been seeking out Narcissa and Draco on her visits, requesting to hold him and asking Narcissa numerous questions about his care. Narcissa was thrilled with the eager audience to share the tiny details of Draco's development, and Lucille always listened with rapt attention.

At the end of one such visit, Narcissa went over to Lucille to collect a sleepy Draco for his afternoon nap. A glimmering caught Narcissa's eye as she turned, but she had taken four steps before doing a double take.

"Why, Lucille... Is that an engagement ring?"

The brunette glanced at her left hand with an expression akin to amusement. "Why, it seems that it is," she replied warmly. However, as she looked up at Narcissa's eager curiosity, the smile slid from her face. "But he hasn't told you. Oh, curse him and his stupid male carelessness."

Before she could utter the next words, Narcissa felt her extremities go numb. She knew what must be coming, but Lucille had always been so adamant that they were only friends, that her dead husband was still the love of her life. How could she, Narcissa, have been so foolish? To grow so fond of this woman, the woman who-

"I'm marrying Lucius. Oh, I feel rotten, telling you this way. He should have said something, it would've been the decent thing to do, but I just assumed he had mentioned it. We got engaged almost a month ago, he bought the ring yesterday. We went to pick it out together. I didn't want one of the Malfoy heirloom rings... I just couldn't have the ring that dear Cecelia had died wearing, it would be too morbid, and Lucius's mother still wears the other one. Anyway, this one is more my taste. Darling, are you alright?"

Narcissa, who looked suddenly quite pale, nodded quickly and turned away. "Of course. I'm so very pleased for you." Her tongue felt thick, and her stomach writhed. "I, er... I'm actually not feeling entirely well. I may need air."

Lucille rose, and placed a gentle, concerned hand upon her shoulder. "Shall I walk with you? Are you faint?"

"I'll be fine!" she insisted, voice several octaves higher than normal. She rushed from the room, and Lucille sank back into her chair, frowning thoughtfully.

_You're marrying Gareth. _She repeated this phrase in her mind over and over again, but it didn't seem to be helping. She didn't know exactly what to do with herself; for some reason, she wanted to scream, preferably at Lucius, but he was at work and besides that, her employer. She tried to reasonably assess the situation. Cecelia had been dead only a little more than five months. Society would have plenty so say about such a quick engagement, but Narcissa knew that to Lucius, the woman he once loved had been dead for many, many years.

_You're marrying Gareth. _So why couldn't she seem to catch her breath? It was as though she'd been punched in the gut. Suddenly, the knowledge that she was marrying Gareth became very real indeed. She would leave the Manor soon, leave Draco, she wouldn't have any reason to see Lucius again... Isn't that what she wanted? Hadn't she resented his long silences and harshness with her from day one? Gareth was never cruel... Just affectionate and complimentary. Always. To everyone. Had he ever told her that he loved her? Narcissa couldn't remember. At her sister's wedding, Bellatrix had suggested that maybe Gareth had other women on the side. Did he? Was he in love instead with some half-blood or worse, and only marrying Narcissa for her lineage? The thought didn't seem too far-fetched. For the first time, Narcissa realized she might not really want to marry Gareth. He was perfect on paper, and a delightful young man in person, but...

She wanted Lucius.

* * *

"Are you busy?" Narcissa nudged open the door to his study, which had been left ajar, later that night, Lucius was seated in a large, winged armchair before the fire, reading the _Evening Prophet_. The chair appeared to be made from gleaming black dragon leather. Narcissa happened to know that the use of dragon hide for non-utilitarian purposes was a-

"Class A Tradeable item, Mr. Malfoy? You could get arrested for that chair."

His head lifted slowly and he stared at her, incredulous. "Did you really come in here to lecture me on the legality of my armchair? You've reached a new low, Miss Black."

"That's not why I came in, but it seems a good point to begin with. Where did you acquire that? It's a huge amount of dragon hide, but the quality is superb. The legs are ebony, aren't they?"

"This chair was made before the Statute of Tradeable Materials was set into place. It has been in this room for four generations of my family, and is not going anywhere soon. Did Crouch put you up to this? He's always after me for this sort of thing, but I have the original permits for all the pieces. He's seen them half a dozen times himself."

"Crouch? You mean Bartemius Crouch, the head of Magical Law Enforcement? How on earth would I even know him, let alone be investigating you for him?"

"Never mind. What do you want then, if not to confiscate my belongings?"

"I want you to spend time with your son." Without waiting for his response, Narcissa smoothly plucked the paper from his hand and pushed Draco into its place. A fleeting look of anxiety passed over Lucius' face as his son teetered unsteadily.

"I don't have time for this-" he started irritably, but he feel silent when Draco reached up to curiously push his fingers into his father's mouth. Narcissa laughed, which caused Draco to begin his own babyish giggle. Lucius sternly withdrew the small hand.

"Just hold him for a bit. I'll be right here."

"Isn't this your job?"

"Yes. But I'm leaving soon. He needs a father to comfort him when I inexplicably vanish." Narcissa's throat felt uncomfortably tight, and she blinked hard. "May I come visit him?" she asking in an uncharacteristically small voice. "After I'm married?"

Lucius considered the request. "Perhaps. Although I doubt you'll want to, or have the time, when you have children of your own."

She didn't respond; she seemed fixated on the small blonde, biting her lip as though on the verge of tears.

"Here, take him back," Lucius prompted, and this time she did not argue. She scooped Draco up and held him close, nuzzling her nose gently against his silky hair. Once he was securely back in her arms she relaxed, and sat down on a chaise lounge near Lucius. He watched the exchange with an unreadable expression, and picked up his paper once again to resume reading.

"You're marring Lucille." The words were spoken before she could stop them, and even she knew they sounded like a hurled accusation. She tried again. "I was rather surprised to hear, _from her_, that you two were engaged last month." Her tone was lighter, except for the pointed barb that the news had come though his fiancee. Lucius glanced over disinterestedly.

"I am. And we were. I didn't think to mention it, since you will be happily wedded and living elsewhere long before the ceremony. It doesn't concern you."

Narcissa flushed. This was precisely the reaction she'd been worried about, yet how could she not expect it? Still, she could save some face.

"Will you take on another girl for my position after I've left?"

"I think that will be unnecessary."

"Since I currently fill the role of Draco's mother?" she prompted, too innocently. He looked over at her once more, and this time she earned a glare.

"If Lucille feels someone else needs to be hired, she can make that decision."

"Draco will miss me," she asserted, feeling a deep pang at the thought of leaving the boy. Lucius made a noncommittal sound. "Will you?"

"Oh yes," he drawled. "Terribly. What shall I do when I can finally read a bloody paper in peace?" He flipped the page.

"Well, will you invite me to your wedding, at least?"

"Will you invite me to yours?"

Narcissa considered this for a moment. "Are you going to bring a present?"

His eyes flickered to her face with a glimmer of amusement. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "I like pretty things. I want you to give me something beautiful. Diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, garnets, I'll even take rubies, I'm not picky, I don't think gems should be excluded over silly things like old house rivalries."

Lucius rolled his eyes, underlining some phrase or figure with his finger, clearly only half listening to her. "And what will you give me, as my wedding present?"

She mulled the question over for a moment, teasing out the possible responses in her mind.

"What could I give you that you don't already have?"

"Quiet."

"What could I have wrapped up and presented to you as a gift?" she adjusted her wording. "Something you want, that is."

"Nothing, so I suppose you needn't bother coming to the wedding."

"I don't have anything you want, Lucius?" She drew the words out slowly, leaning towards him and resting her chin on her hand, gazing over with wide eyes. "Nothing at all?"

"Your little girl charms hold no sway over me, Miss Black," he responded dryly, without removing his eyes from the page before him.

Part of her mind reasoned that he was only playing along, and that she should do nothing to ruin the light mood. However, she was unable to totally suppress the rage that swelled inside her with his dismissive words. _Little girl._ She rose abruptly, scooping up Draco. She wanted to remind him that he'd said- or implied, anyway- that he thought she was beautiful, but that card had already been played and using it again would only make her appear desperate.

"That's because you..." she stopped the words that hung on her tongue. _Because you're cruel. Because you haven't a heart. Because you don't care about me at all, even though you should. _There were still lines that she dared not cross. Instead, she swept from the room with Draco, Lucius' bemused gaze following her retreating back.


End file.
